I hear the sound of a radio playing in the distance. I spiral back in time to my teen years when it was safe to leave windows open at night so the heat could leave the house. In the silence of the room, you could hear a radio accompany a young mechanic working on his car. The noises were the lullaby of the evening.
I feel the beads I left in the window to dry. They are cool, almost cold, to my touch. They roll about in my palms, and I think about the first glass bead I saw. I remember how I marveled that anyone could put a real flower in that bead. I touch them again and feel their smooth texture.
I smell the lilacs and hyacinths as the cool breeze circulates and swirls around me. I stand by the window and remember the lilac bush outside my window at home. It became the natural curtain for my window. I smell the lilac fragrance and carry this memory with me even now, at my age.
I see the neighborhood children playing outside in the encroaching darkness. One boy is playing tennis by himself because the older boys are ignoring him. I see him jump for joy. He must have won his game!!
I taste the strawberries in my bowl. Each berry is perfect in shape and size. They are medium flares of red contrasting against the white of the bowl. Tart and sweet. No fruit can be both, but these are. I taste their beauty. Only a touch of sugar to heighten the sweet. Perfection lives in these strawberries.
