Devonne Brown

Summer Days

People ask me how I spend my summers. I have few human relatives near me, so Norris, Madam, and Opal Pearl are the immediate family. The true answer is I spend my summers doing whatever I want. I met two and a half goals this summer, and I rarely set goals. The first was to finish the first draft of my novel, then get a dog and get it on my school schedule, and last was to clean out the laundry room. Big time fun stuff for having two months off work.

I’ve spent most of the last two months writing my version of a medieval legend. I have to do some layering, go back and fix some foreshadowing, add depth and believability to the whole damn thing. This novel is my obsession. If I don’t get it right, I will have learned nothing from teaching writing and literature for longer than most folks’ lifetimes these days. I created my own  silent stress hell.  I did, and now, if that weren’t enough opportunity for humiliation, I’m letting some folks look at it for viability issues. I’ve got my heart in these people’s hands. 

It’s hard making cities out of sentences, so I thought dog training would ease the tension some this summer. At least I had the sense to not be lured by a puppy, and rescued Opal Pearl, a year old standard poodle that didn’t ask for hot sauce when she met Norris and the Madam. Norris asked for hot sauce when he met her though. He got right in her face, stood on his back legs, and hissed his intention to beat the shit out of her if she got on his nerves, which was imminent. After spending a month on the couch in the family room, dog training between paragraphs, I believe Opal Pearl to be ready for back to school. Norris will be in charge of the house while I’m gone, she can do the heavy lifting. 

I wish Opal and the cats could clean. They’re useless. They need to help me sweep, mop, and organize the laundry room. It’s my half goal yet to be met. Of all the things in the world there are to do, cleaning just hurts my soul. I hate it. My mom couldn’t stand a speck of dirt anywhere. If she were here, my laundry room wouldn’t look and smell the way it does. She’d badger me until it looked like someone did something to try to organize it. Her voice in my head is a mixed blessing. It’s fun to be reminded of her quirks and cleaning platitudes, on the other hand, that voice is right and I need to get my ass in there and get busy. She was always right. Dammit.

I devoted my summer to writing a story, training a dog, and almost cleaning out a room. If there has been one thing I’ve learned from teaching, it’s set realistic goals. I did what I set out to do. I’m almost sixty-three, and I am a lucky woman.