Spring Day

The springtime air caresses my skin with a barely there breeze. It's one of those days that I could wear anything and be perfectly comfortable. Or I could just exist in my own skin and let the sun that isn't too close, too hot, touch every inch. Hard to find enough privacy to do that, but the desire is still there. So I slip into a tank and short. I grab the latest book that I am reading and relax out on my porch to enjoy the golden afternoon sun. 

I lose myself between the pages of the book, slipping into the adventure of the story, imagining myself as the main character, wondering where the path of the plot will take me. The subtle soft rustle of the trees around me and sweet songs of the birds as they also enjoy the springtime mood does not disturb the bubble of fantasy around me. I stretch my legs and shift around in my seat only between chapters, at natural pause points, but I don't stop at the teasing cliff hangers, I have to keep reading, I have to know what happens.

I'm on the edge of my mental seat while following the action (still perfectly reclined in the Adirondack though) when my phone goes off next to me. I stop mid sentence, probably mid word if it is long enough to reach over to my phone. I glance at the notification and smile when I see my friend's name at the top and four messages underneath apparently sent in quick succession. I set aside my book and open up the messaging. I type out replies as fast as I get them in a volley of data packets that make up a conversation. 

A dorky smile grows on my lips at the one liners, the insults, the praise, the catching up that we do. It's not like we haven't talked yesterday or even earlier that day, but sometimes just acknowledging the little things that happen between are important. I mention how each of us are the hero of our own story and get an enthusiastic response. And a Shakespeare quote, 

All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;

and I laugh and joke about how no one is sitting in my audience. I get scolded for that light of thinking. 

Eventually the sun sets and without its constant heat, I actually get chilled so I grab my stuff and duck inside. Still parrying responses on my phone I peer into my fridge and freezer and try to figure out what is left for me to eat. And what I was moved enough to actually cook. A few minutes later there is something actually on the stove that only ends up a little burned. Crispy to add texture right?

I settle in on my couch with my book exchanged for my laptop, moving my conversation there and started up a couple more. All from different states. I add a thought or two here and there as I pull up my drawing program and curse myself for my own details. My friends laugh at my pain calling me a masochist and a talented artist in conflicting statements. I laugh back at them and agree, inviting them to watch as I try to place my lines correctly on the screen through my tablet. 

I actually used it out in public the other day and was amused with how many wide eyed stares I got for how I draw with my hand off to the side but eyes trained on the screen. It's definitely something I had to get used to a first but now I sometimes forgo a mouse or touch pad for the tablet even when not drawing. Tower defense games. 

I get helpful suggestions from my friends on corrections to my drawings as they aren't as deeply invested as I am, they aren't married to the lines that I have put down. I welcome their advice and work on sketching and resketching the lines until my audience and I are satisfied. I get advice on styles and colors in between their group discussion that I observe while still working. It's harder to type with a pen in my hand so I only interject when I just have to. I slip a wry comment or terrible pun in that has them probably all groaning at their own computer screens. 

Eventually they all drop off, or at least the ones on the east coast do, using their jobs as an excuse to get to sleep. I stave off a yawn in refute to the fact that I should be joining them. When I can't get a detail correct, those remaining tell me to put the pen down and go to sleep. Reluctantly I agree and end the session with many thanks that I'm not sure come off as sincere as I really am. 

I shut down the electronics and hit all the lights as I head to my room. The air is still that perfect temperature as I fall onto my bed and curl the sheets around me. I smile into my pillow and wait for sleep and dreams and the rough morning start that I know will come from staying up so late.