Bloomington, Indiana, USA
It's dusk and we're out for our fifth constitutional of the day. We're strolling around the gated, central Florida community, a big wide loop past the brick and plaster-covered ranch houses, half of which are empty, left by owners from Chicago, Cincinnati, Cleveland.
scrolling the salmon-colored sky an unfamiliar bird
Palm trees rustle as my dad tells me about the barber who yanked three dollars from his hand while he was paying him. "You didn't call the police," I ask nervously. "You bet," he answers. "Justice will be served. I would have punched him right then and there, but my wrist was still in a sling from the last time."
The road curves past a lime colored-house with several palmettos in front. Looking up, Dad notices a bright planet shimmering in the west toward the Gulf. "Which star is that?" he asks. I think about how he taught me the stories of so many constellations: Cassiopeia, the Swan, the Seven Sisters.
"Wow. Such a beautiful star."
We circle the loop again. Another turn and Venus appears again, a silver talisman, even more etched against the darkening sky.
"What star is that?" Dad asks again.
Each time around, it's the same story. The same dazzling planet above us, reflecting sunlight toward us. Each time we turn west, Dad pauses; he's awed anew by the "star's" beauty, its fresh appearance in the sky.
woman dancing alone