My mind has been taught to associate palm trees with vacation.
Every morning I wake, look out the window and there they are. I go to work and look out my windows, huge windows, and there they are again.
Every now and then, but not too often, I wake up to cloudy skies… but then a few hours later the sun burns these “clouds” away and the sky is blue. Completely blue. Not a cloud.
It has been three weeks since I have seen a panhandler.
It has been about that long since I have even seen a piece of trash on the ground.
Out here, even the dirt is kept clean.
The kids have started school but the pool is still open. The pool is going to stay open.
It doesn’t close.
Ever.
I no longer toy with airports and rental cars. I traded those in for an office with my name on the door.
There was a moment,
I’ll admit more than one,
as I was driving past the Cheescake factory, then the Olive Garden, and then Chili’s, when I began to regret my decision. I missed the Hinge Cafe’ and the rat meat cheese steak under the L…
And then I ate a burrito.
Regret all gone.
I may never eat another cheese steak.
Viva la burrito.
Brohammas 