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Parker
Life isn’t about waiting for the storm to pass…it’s about dancing in the rain. Vivian Greene
The reporter said,“Ladies and gentlemen, there you have it, this year’s winner of the SW Classic, Parker Davis!” The crowd clapped and whispered. It was the eighteenth hole, and he sank it for another win. Parker Davis, a pro golfer, bowed to the crowd, then turned to his caddy and, after a high five, walked toward the score table. He was sporting a handsome smile of confidence, his messy brown hair only making his firm body and chiseled biceps look that much sexier. He was Marco Island’s hottest bachelor.Tomorrow’s headlines would read something similar, I knew, after winning so many; they all started to focus on the man instead of the game.
“Simba!” I yelled out as I entered my house, and my favorite friend came running toward me. He smelled my freshly showered scent and jumped on me, licking my face.
“Hey buddy, how are you?” Petting him, I edged my way inside and closed the door. Simba followed me toward the kitchen, barking. “Okay, I hear you.” I sat down and played with him, giving him some much-needed attention. His shiny brown coat was soft as I petted him. “Okay, go play. I’ll take you for a run in a minute.”
Grabbing a beer, I went out to the lanai to decompress. The weather was nice, cooler than usual for Florida, in the mid-80s instead of the 90s today. I flipped through the day's mail and tossed the ads into the recycle bin.
Once in my shorts and T-shirt, I leashed Simba. “Let’s go for our run, buddy. You ready?” Simba wagged his tail and panted wildly as he pulled me to the door. Along our route, I waved and said hi to the neighbors who were already doing things in their yards.
When I was nearing Kayla’s house, I noticed she was outside cleaning her car out. “Hi Kayla, how’s it going?”
“Good Parker. Hello there, Simba!” Kayla and I had been friends since second grade. We were part of the elite group born and raised in Florida and are still here.
“Such a good boy,” she said to Simba as she petted him.
“Are you going to Derrick’s birthday party tonight?”
“Sure am I just got back from shopping. I got Derrick some special golf balls, a monogrammed hand towel, and new golf gloves.”
“He’ll like that,” I told her as I took the cold water she offered.
“Did you get a haircut?”
“No, why?” I asked, running a hand through my hair, thinking it must look messy after a run.
“It was a joke, because you need one.” She laughed at me and rolled her eyes. “It’s getting pretty long,” she continued.
“Nah, it’s fine.” I teased as I ran my hands through it and asked if I should go blonde. That made her laugh. My hair was brown, with a wave to it, and hung to the collar. It was the perfect length, and I did not think it needed to be cut.
“Ha, ha. Funny man, isn’t he, Simba?”
“Okay, I’ve got to run, see you later.” I started jogging, letting Simba lead the way home.
The neighborhood homes were all very similar in style, which didn’t give anyone much to look at once they turned into the development. As I jogged along the street lined with palm trees, a car would pass here and there. I did like the fact there was a bike lane on the road since there were no sidewalks in our area.
Most homes were either a shade of beige, white, or gray, with the standard color front and garage door of either blue, red, or one that was neutral. Usually, a homeowner’s association had to approve any exterior paint colors before any painting took place, and for a development without one it was a surprise everything was so orderly.
All the lawns were St. Augustine grass, beautifully manicured with sprinkler systems. Their flower beds were top-notch, most looking similar in fashion and color throughout the year. I particularly loved going through the neighborhoods that had kids, because those homes felt a bit more lived in.The lawns had toys on them, kids playing, or dogs barking. On most warm days, I would find kids splashing on slip and slides or baby pools set up out front, a vast difference from the waterfront homes on my street where everything was picture perfect at most times.
I almost tripped myself up as I rounded the corner to my street and noticed a strange car at the house next to mine. The realtor had told me the owner passed away a few years ago. I hadn’t seen anyone there except maintenance companies since I bought my place two years ago. Figuring it was someone looking to buy, I headed inside to shower and get ready for my brother-in-law Derrick’s birthday party.
“Okay, be good,” I told Simba as I unleashed him, and he went right for his water, then to the couch and plopped down. The brown leather sofa had become his space during my absences on the circuit. I had covered his corner with a blanket to try and fight off any wear to the leather; so far, it had held up rather well.
Turning on the TV, I headed for the shower.
Olivia
If this is coffee, please bring me some tea; but if this is tea, please bring me some coffee. Abraham Lincoln
“Damn it, I guess I should make a list and stock the fridge,” I said as I looked inside, then wondered what the cupboards held. I still wasn’t sure if I could let the house go yet, if ever.
Bread
Milk
