The day

This is what it looks like: my cat tumbling merrily along behind me, crossing over in front of my feet to roll over onto her belly for a rub. Me tripping over her again and again. It repeats every six or seven feet.

This is what it smells like: the lilacs are in bloom. Every bush I pass offers up a whiff of their loveliness. The trees by the ravine exploding in their glory and nobody ever goes there so nobody ever knows how high the bees are off this scent.

This is what it feels like: We park the car between the Mercedes SUV (fucking huge beastie) and the Porsche. Walk towards the hall past the Lexus, the Volvo, the Beemer and the Range Rover. We are not worthy. We are intruders and have no right to care about this stuff-should be at our jobs packing toothbrushes into boxes. My clothes and hair confirm my low status. The hall is cool and as we walk to our seats-coffees in hand-I can hear one of the mothers just loud enough for me to hear "the sign clearly says no food or drink allowed" I laugh, still rebellious.