Last night, a small town joy, the farmer's market on the square. Some local participants were proud to be part of making America Sonoma again. I saw a hat worn proudly advertising the fact, with a flag pin and all. Nobody seemed to be harassing this old man. It was as if it didn't even matter.
We sat and listened to the music, drank rosé, had ahi tuna bowls of varying degrees of spiciness. I hobbled there and back - limping, lurching, and faltering, gasping for occasional air.
First Tuesday Market of the summer. There was no wind, but plenty of early evening sun. The rains left an unusual amount of bugs in the grass, populations that were eager to participate and happy to have us near.
When I was handing the boy a corn dog, I told him that it was a bit hot and that maybe I should take a bite off to let some of the heat out. He was against this. Son, sharing makes us happy, most of all when it's painful.