The chill of a night air.
The overcast sky hiding the soft shimmering moon.
The solo string of outdoor lights that somehow, dimly yet barely, illuminate the whole back yard.
The top half of a lawn ornament flamingo teetering, nose-first, on said string.
The aftermath of two hastily drunk Moscow Mules.
The cool beer in my right hand.
The faint murmur of ambient conversation with the compliment of loud, live music --
The talent.
The energy.
The fairy being handing me a beverage promising me, "It tastes good.
Like juice."
The silhouettes of the two giant palms in the yard next door --
The trunks so large it would take two of me to wrap my arms around them.
The company of friends and Phamily.
The hugs.
The soft blur resulting from the mixture of the vodka, Tecate and that fruity beverage.
The laughter.
The subtle tug of fatigue and a perfectly timed
"What are your thoughts about heading home?"
The late night raiding of the refrigerator.
The purr of the fuzzy ball of fur.
The gentle slide from consciousness to slumber.
Joy.
