Vacations and Trailers
The smoke separated from the edge of the lit cigarette resting comfortably on the lip of a woman staring so deeply into the actions of the neighbors taking the garbage and lying it on the side of the road. As she inhaled, a strand of brown hair slid down and laid in front of her brown eye, and as she brushed it to the side the hand resting upon the top of the glass rushed down to the middle, like an elevator dropping from the roof to the pressed button in the middle of the building, and clutched the glass passing the football to the quarterback who received the sour beer gulping a huge amount into her stomach which was lined with the donut she casually slipped into her mouth earlier. As she took the cookies out of the steaming oven she made for her nephew, there was a knock on the door. The unexpected visitor shook Kelly's hands into launching the baked treats, eager to be digested sitting on the sizzling cooking sheet, to the linoleum next to the cat's lunch waiting in the bowl. I got up as fast as I could, like a cat climbing up a tree to safety from the growling monster chasing it, and opened the brown creaking door only to see a sight I had long for so endlessly, Kelly's son and my cousin, Scotty smiling through the transparent glass separating us from each other. My hand shook as I twisted the knob to let him into the white trailer on Canyon drive, and my mouth wouldn't stop running, like a participant in a triathlon whose lifelong dream was to slide his head through the center of the lanyard attached to the large and heavy first place gold medal his dad won at the same age. As the trailer received him, like a present a kid wanted so badly but never thought he would get, all the jaws of the inhabitants fell to the floor. That night would mark the beginning of a very interesting Christmas vacation.
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