Dreaming the sun on my back

I was packing the trunk of my parent’s old Malibu with camping gear. It was sunny, and I looked down and saw my shoes on the rough grain of asphalt. The sheen of each individual rock in the asphalt mix made me look up at the sky. It was clear and hot, and at the edge of my vision the cherry tree in the front yard of my parent’s house was in full blossom, lacing the sky pink.

I returned to the trunk. I was trying to fit everything I need into it. It was full of primary colours, vivid camping colours like orange, blue, red and green. No purple. I don’t like purple. I had to keep shuffling all the colours around to make everything fit in an organized fashion.

I could feel my back getting hotter as the sun started to wake up from its morning chill. I looked over to the trunk of the cherry tree, saw the powdery orange lines of its pollen wisk off in the breeze. An ant closed its eyes to avoid it.