A fellow member of the Girl Cult just bought a house on the Mississippi. She’s not even forty yet, and she was able to do this. I will forever be in awe of Cutie’s determination to obtain this awesome spot. And I will forever be glad that I am part of her inner circle so I can share this with her occasionally
Last week, when the days were scorching, Cutie invited us all over to take in her new digs. We all showed up with icy drinks and swim suits. We congratulated her on her new home and immediately went to dive off the end of her dock into the cool, weed-free, refreshing water.
Once our skin stopped sizzling from the heat, we chatted on the deck of the next door neighbour. Cutie doesn’t have any deck chairs yet, but happens to be close friends with her next door neighbours, as well as two neighbours beyond.
As we laughed and stuff (remember, I can’t tell you everything, or I’d be ousted from the cult forever), I found myself looking over the lake to the West, watching as the sun began its descent into the horizon.
The clouds were sparse but fluffy, dotting the sky with dusty pink punctuation marks, casting shadows on the ground and the water as the sun started its final show. Whether it’s saying goodbye to us for the night, or hello to the other side of the globe, we’ll never know, but I wanted to watch the performance, just the same.
Conversation faded for me (a rarity, I know) as I positioned myself in front of a plate glass window in Cutie’s house, facing the Western sky. Framed by two mighty oak trees, the sun’s bright, blinding rays softened and reached out to touch the water’s surface, sending a message to tell us to pay attention we wouldn’t want to miss what was coming.
I knew at that moment that sunsets from this spot were going to be spectacular.
The slight ripple on the surface of the Mississippi added a glittery sparkle as bright, blinding day rays fizzled to make way for the lullaby song of the sun. It started with fiery pink fingers that stretched its magnificence into orange tendrils, touched the surface of the lake with its reflection and crawled all the way to Cutie’s shore as it tickled us with a good night story.
The oaks swayed slightly in appreciation, proud to be a part of this glory. I could almost hear the hiss of the sun as it hit the surface of the Mississippi, could almost see the steam rise from the water’s face. The sky glowed to a peaceful lavender and blue, sending the last ripple through the water’s reflection once more on a swan song of departure before the sun kissed us all with a bright red goodnight.
And now I am more certain than ever that I must make sure to bring Cutie an expensive, thoughtful gift any time I visit her shore, because I never want her to ask me to leave.
