my balcony

On you I sit allowing me access to them.

Them whom make dinner below as their kids play in the yard. A yard only by definition, the grass carpet they are enjoying is a mere few square feet in size. I wonder as watch them both pet the rabbit contently within their small space when exactly adulthood will take over and cause them to seek glee within a greedier expanse. The hiss of a watering hose is heard as it turns on, splashing the brother and sister team with floods of gleeful giggles and screams. As they sit to eat their conversation is operational. It is full of instructions to either the children encouraging them to eat their dinners, or to each other as they define what is needed to successfully get the kids to sleep tonight. They are in the middle of the race.

Them who are the new and fresh student couple a building over on the second floor that lazily strum a guitar over the sizzle of the barbecue. Their conversation is filled with brainstorming about fall classes and a potential European summer trip and life in general. They are only just starting to run.

As they eat on their balconies below I catch only snippets of the conversations between the staccato clinks of cutlery to plate. The drums from the tam tams are heard in the distance with their rhythmic stamina not yet showing fatigue from today's heat an the occasional car horn honks celebrating Spain’s victory.

The sun is now shining directly from the north, mere moments before it slumbers under the line of the horizon. The evening glow now more akin to a hug as opposed to the aggressive punch to the gut that was today and much of last weeks swelter. I sit and listen to the warm noise.

‎"Half an hour and then its time to get ready for bed" the mother says while winding up the garden hose. I fear I will beat them to it. Just as I ponder this sun leaves and I go inside. The students continue to sip wine and talk.

I love the plateau and my place in it, whatever lap I am on.