Where do they go?
While I was on my bike ride today, I wrote a great post for this blog. It was all about how we went to the hardware store on Sunday morning to buy an umbrella so we could sit on the beach under an umbrella during the heat wave.
There was a man there who was also buying an umbrella. He said he wanted one that he could stick in the sand. We said, we want one of those too! Where did you find yours? So he led us over to the umbrellas, which were stashed in a corner and not so easily found. The umbrella was almost as big as he was, and he dragged it along behind him. Then, he wanted to know which umbrella was the best umbrella. Should he get the one with the white metal post and the striped design? Or the one with the wood post and the solid design? Decisions, decisions.
We got the blue one.
Then, we put our umbrella in our VeeDub with the beach chairs and the beach towels and the beach bag with the sunscreen bottle in it. We drove around the corner and across the traintracks and around another corner. We found a VeeDub sized parking spot under a tree. Even the bug needs a little shade, and it’s too big to fit under our umbrella. We walked along the trail, under the bouganvilla bushes (really, those flowers need a simpler name), across the little bridge and out to the sand.
And we sat under our umbrella. The blue one, that we bought at the hardware store.
I think there were a few other things that went into this post, too. Maybe something more about the man. Maybe something about going to the hardware store on a Sunday, because it feels like such a cliché. Maybe something about the beach, and how it has two different names. But I can’t remember them.
I don’t know where the words go. Sometimes they’re there, sometimes they’re not.