Red Hook Brooklyn 10am. I wake up and look out my 11th floor window.
Oh my God. The sky. I’m blasted. I’m overwhelmed. By blue. But not just any blue. Royal Blue. Stunning Royal Blue from horizon to horizon. It’s usually a dirty, featureless gray
And magnificent white puffs of clouds, as unique as fingerprints. Creeping along this royal blue sky, they’re alive, sending spiritual messages.
And the sunshine. It isn’t the usual cool silver. It’s golden.
I’m in a French Impressionist painting from the 1800’s
I feel like a kid again and hit the streets in a t-shirt.
In the lobby a black woman in her 50’s scolds me.
“Where’s your coat?”
She mischievously looks around, puts her hand to the side of her mouth, leans close, and whispers
“You think you’re white.”
Bam! I’m blasted with joy. You can’t get a better compliment than that from a black person. Because I am white. God I feel so happy. She put a burst of wind in my sails. They are snapping and cracking. I’m sparkling. My happy feet dance out of the lobby.
It’s chilly. I hit the lane and see a woman I know. She’s dressed for winter.
“Lemme borrow your coat to go to the store.”
I don’t get her coat, but I do get her laughter and her smile and a burst of warmth.
I hit the street, and on the sidewalk, I see a woman wearing brand new, bubble gum pink, Hot Pants. And a brand new, bubble gum pink sleeveless blouse.
She doesn’t look cold. I’d guess she’s 5’ 9, 180. A firm 180.
Her smiling face gets more delightful with each approaching step.
As we pass she says
“Hi”
Oh My God what a voice. So soft and so low. And she drew it out soooo long. From her mouth to my soul.
I may be 69, but as she passes I swing around and watch her walk away. Oh my God what a view.
I pull out my harmonica, and watch her butt going Ding Dong Ding Dong. Suddenly a smooth and funky melody comes pouring out.
The music strikes her like an arrow and she swings around and starts to dance. Oh she’s so graceful. So light on her feet. She’s lost in the rhythm.
She doesn’t know it, but she is the rhythm. She is the music.
I hear children’s voices screaming. I swing around and see them crammed against the playground fence. Bouncing and jumping and roaring in ecstasy.
I’m possessed by this music coming from who knows where. My old bones start doing my Baby Step Dance. Everyone has been hijacked and hypnotized.
Did Miss Hot Pants light the fuse?
Or was it this Golden Sunshine?
And these magnificent White Clouds.
Under this Royal Blue Sky
Image: Blue Sky with fluffy white clouds from Pixabay.com
literally stories 
Gene
I enjoyed this little slice of life. The two characters were playful and the description of the day is excellent.
Leila
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It was heartening to read a story that is simply an expression of joy and this was filled with it. I believe that in the absence of tragedy you can choose to be happy and this character chose to be happy – Lovely stuff. Thank you – Diane
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Need that slice of joyfulness right now! Concise and uplifting.
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Just what is it that has lighted the fuse of the ebullient narrator of this story? Whatever it is, it does the job and he is beside himself with joy. Did he get high, take a snifter of a.m. brandy; drop acid? Or is he “high on life?” I vote for the latter. The reader will never know the origins of his short term ecstacy, but can only be happy along with him. It’s good to take a take a rest from never ending ennui, frustration, despair. Thanks for the bright spot to my morning!
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I really enjoyed reading this story. To feel exultant at a nice day is an infectious gift. The joy was palpable for the reader. ✨😊
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A prose poem, the effect heightened by the short sentences and the one-sentence paragraphs. I’d never come across ‘bubblegum pink’ before – will pinch that one. Thank you.
ps. wish I could play the harmonica
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Gene,
I admire your project of trying to capture a bygone era in a fascinating place and pass it along. This story is like a prose poem and it really captures the feel of the narrator’s grand, wide-open attitude toward life. It had a Walt Whitmanian openness and happiness to it, and maybe the Beat writers too: the happiness that comes from simply being alive. The language bounces and sings. And it made a fine use of brevity, doing much in few words. Thanks for writing!
Dale
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Gene
Usually, I take notes reading LS stories. This one I lived, somehow. Even Red Hook is a joy if you let it.
Ever get yelled at by a city squirrel? Two squirrels? Makes you want to squeak back, doesn’t it?
Nice job!
Gerry
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A royal blue sky, happy feet and musical butt. What more could one ask for? Very nice.
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Happy, happy. Personal note – I dance like nobody should be watching, but I was filmed yesterday at a concert. Years ago my a dark person praised my dance and thereby brought me joy.
Keep on rocking and dancing in the free world.
cf. Lovin’ Spoonful catalog
It’s a keeper, it brings me a Kondo of joy.
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Hi Gene,
It was great to see this on the site.
You have created two characters who are infectious and interesting.
A delightful little slice of life.
All the very best.
Hugh
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I felt a tinge of Kerouac with the exuberance of this one – such a distinct narrative voice and one, for me at least, feels like the narrator is drug-induced – be that the natural drug of life or something more man-made. Anyway, I thoroughly enjoyed the joyous tone of this piece.
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