It's sunset on a Wednesday evening in August, and I step out of a bookstore to wet mist and the aroma of sickeningly sweet salt water taffy. Inside the candy store, wood flooring greets my Mary Jane flats and I stick a quarter in an electric player piano and the whole store turns to look at me as jazzy bar tunes explode from the piano that is playing itself.
All of my senses are completely delighted.
It's like a welcome vacation from real life. Real life with disease and a painful joint condition. Real life with work and stress. Real life with laundry and dishes and dirty floors. Real life with insomnia and rough mornings.
This, right here and right now, can stay.
New books and comfy leggings and knit dresses and little girls holding hands with their daddy and player piano music in a candy store at sunset in a little coastal town one summer evening in the mist.