“Do you know," Peter asked, "why swallows build in the eaves of houses? It is to listen to the stories.” ~ J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan


Into the Night

We were steppin' out . . .

I loved this song, loved it.
"You . . . you dress in pink & blue just like a child,
and in a yellow taxi turn to me & smile . . ."
What great lyrics. Fabulous.
I remember nighttime drives to Dallas,
steppin' out,
this tape in the car stereo,
and I am smiling
kind of dancing around my office just to hear it again.

We were stepping out Saturday night, to a party in a big house, and these are the lovely, lovely Katie's legs anticipating a great time. She and the new hubby in one car, Sheila with me in another, off into the night, onto dark Texas country roads, me reassuring Sheila that I was a great navigator, and I mostly was, Sheila not being so and missing the turn from the highway, but she being a great driver nonetheless, not to mention her car having heated seats, and turning right around in the middle of said highway, no other cars nearby, and eventually we were there - did I mention how dark it was? - house far, far off the road, not a peep of a window showing, no light indicating the dirt-road-driveway-longer-than-my-street, just darkness and another car parking behind us, driver whispering is this the right place?, Katie waiting with a flashlight, and finally, through mud and more darkness, the house appeared and then we really were there and so were lots of other people, even folks I knew, and it was a party after all.

We talked about men's shirts (pocket or no pocket?), George Foreman, Cuban music, flooded basements, red caresses, handmade lace, cookies, being vegetarian, how much we didn't like Coldplay, dancing, Houston, couches, art or the lack thereof, being self-sustaining in a financial kind of way, Rolexes, marriage, divorce, barbecue, mingling vs. not mingling, the time the bullet came through the upstairs bedroom window and lodged in the bed's headboard - even all this way out in the country, compasses, toenail polish, Jeep Wranglers, Christmas trees, black beads, the time when the baby was still a baby, how we thought she'd be taller.

On the way home,
it was the Jack-in-the-Box drive through
for a fajita pita.

I navigated by the Christmas lights on houses.
we were steppin out . . .


  1. I follow your words slowly, savoring them. You sure are good with them. Telling a story must run in your genes!

  2. it sounds like a nice evening. navigating by Christmas lights... i like that.

  3. That is simply the most fabulous photo ever! And your writing is no less brilliant. It has some undefinable quality to it that pulls me in and lingers pleasantly for a long time after I have read the last words.

  4. Oh :( I love Coldplay! :)

    And I also love love love heated seats! Wish my little car had them.



come. sit under the emma tree & let's talk. i have cookies . . .