Sunshine

After far too many days of forty degree rain and wisping winds, we finally saw the sun. I had forgotten that feeling of warmth on my face, and couldn't stand to be crammed into that minivan any more. So, since it was my turn to choose where we would eat, I directed my dad to drive to the grocery store. We picked up sandwich meats and cheeses and bread and chips and drinks and some oreos for dessert, and set off to the nearest forest preserve.

I'm not sure what town we were in at the time, but we were somewhere in Tennessee, on our way between Nashville and Memphis. But most importantly, it was seventy-five degrees. Perfect.

My brothers and I tromped ahead merrily, while my parents meandered slowly from the car. A covered shelter stood before us and we made our way there, walking across the wooden bridges instead of treading on the sodden grass. My parents were not so wise, and we laughed from the safety of the dry shelter while their feet sunk into the mud.

Without winter coats or hats or gloves or scarves, we sat and ate our meal, which tasted better to me just then than fine cuisine. Unfortunately, we had to clamor back into the car and prepare for many more hours of driving, but the pit stop was just the refreshment we all needed to keep up our spirits.