Biking to work. Hot, hot now, to the point that grasses appear permanently stuck in ther yellowness.
Pause by the lake. France? No, Madison.
After teaching, I’m there again, by the lake. Looking at the familiar Madison Union Terrace tables and chairs. And people, engrossed in each other (can’t be the food) leaning into them, right there, by the water.
Pick up a box (okay, four boxes) of sushi in the early evening and head west, to Spring Green. American Players Theater – we have been going there for years. And years. (Remind you of Central Park’s outdoor theater?)
Two people (each with white hair) walk down to the stage. They hold hands.
The show starts. Shakespeare. Much Ado About Nothing. Why hadn’t I ever noticed how mean Claudio is to his beloved? I notice now. Her tears, her frustration.
We drive back in that familiar string of returning cars. In the forty minute ride back to town, the ipod is plugged into the ancient tape recorder of the car and familiar stuff comes on. We’re used to singing together, daughters and I.
Such a bright moon ahead, just over the road.
For I can’t help, falling in love with you...