The day was Hot. We were Cool. How? Long bike ride in the heat, the air around us oven-blazing, sweat rolling down our brows; we stopped for a sit-down under a shady tree, and uncapped cold Kombucha (bold, refreshing zesty) drinks. We sipped from the brown bottles like thirsty, shipwrecked pirates. We were at one of our favorite spots, a little out-cropping, a grassy oasis on a hill overlooking Lake Michigan. Hundreds, no, maybe thousands, no uncountable number of dragonflies, buzzed in the air above and around our heads. Where did they come from, where do they go? Sail-boats and motor-boats circled around in big circles out on the water. The boats so far out on the horizon they looked like a lonely child's toys. The lake, massive, still, dark-blue, a magnificent, sparkling, body of water. Puffy clouds slowly trekked across the sky overhead. Time seemed to stand-still. Our words hung in the air and then evaporated., dotted with long hollows of silence. Occasionally our laughter rattled in the branches of the big, brooding trees. Our bikes lay in the grass like fallen, steely creatures; waiting for something to happen. Long moments of still-ness and breath.
Hot and Cool.
