Oh, how I spoketh too soon.
The rains swooped in and the temps dropped and my mental daffodils are feeling very droopy today. I splashed back home after dropping Jane off at school. My rain boots are four hundred years old, and I was wearing my St. Louis baseball hat to mush down my frizzy hair.
It’s supposed to snow on Sunday.
The frown crease in between my eyebrows is getting epic.
When the bus stopped I hopped off and went into the tiny local grocery store on the corner. It’s insanely over priced, but it’s small and warm and bright and cheerful. I’ve started running into the same people in the neighborhood, which is reassuring in a small comforting way.
Today my favorite lady was there. The first time I met her she was wearing a floor length mink coat and bright red lipstick at 10:00 in the morning while buying a bushel of avocados. I overhead the cashier call her Miss Edith.
She was there again today. Miss Edith was wearing a bright pink rain slicker, with bright pink lipstick to match, and a plastic cap over her hair. I wonder about Miss Edith a lot. I wonder how she manages to survive here as an elderly person (the subway stairs kill my knees already). I wonder if she grew up here, or moved here as a starry eyed young woman during WWII. I wonder if she has a boyfriend. How many times she was married. If she had children. But what I do know is that somewhere out in Queens, she lives in a magical place with a giant closet.
She swept out of the grocery store carrying a sack full of oranges and green onions, standing out against the concrete sidewalks and construction sites like a bright pink bird on a bleak gray day.
So despite the blustery weather, and the momentary retreat of spring, I walked home with my baseball hat and frizzy hair feeling a bit more buoyed.
Maybe I’ll try to find some bright pink rain boots just like Miss Edith.