Flowers on Sunday Another Time

Jarrell and Louis delivered my mattress yesterday.  That’s not the name of an exclusive mattress brand you haven’t heard of yet.  It’s the two young men who pulled their delivery truck up at my curb at exactly 10:15, and took just about 15 minutes to set up a brand new place for me to sleep.

Louis set up the frame, while Jarrell brought the box spring in by himself.  He remarked on the paintings in the hallway. “Did you paint them?” he asked, looking at the canvas outside my door.  It’s kind of a crazy painting, with collaged lips floating over a pear made out of a few too many colors.  “No,” I answered, and then I asked, “Are you an artist?”  I always ask people this question if they mention something about art to me.  Because people who notice art usually have an artist somewhere inside.  And artists like it when you notice.

Jarrell looked a little shy. “Well, yeah.  I used to draw, and paint. But I guess I kind of haven’t in a while.”

“You should get out your pencil and draw something today.” I said.  “Make some art.”  He brightened up.  “Yeah.  Maybe I will.  I haven’t had much time lately.”  I wanted to let him off the hook, because I know it is hard to start again, when you lose touch with something you really like.  “Well, it’s true – you do need 5 minutes to yourself!” I said.  Jarrell laughed, and went back to the truck to get the mattress.

In the afternoon, my friend treated me to a house warming gift.  New sheets – the deluxe kind I wouldn’t usually buy for myself.  A gorgeous copper color and silky thread count.  I got in bed at 8 pm and fell asleep listening to some old radio shows.

The bed feels so good, it’s like heaven.  I couldn’t help but be happy.

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