A spring happening

The ground is greening, and a flush of pastel buds softens the lines of the tree branches, which have been stark and bare for months.

We planted grass in our backyard, and tufts of soft green are starting to rise from beneath the straw we scattered as protection atop the seeds.

Last night we went into town to set up the chairs for today's Bible study.  It was actually warm enough that the thought of ice-cream didn't chill my bones, so I told Shawn we could stop for some on the way home.  He always wants to stop for ice-cream.

A few miles down the freeway, Shawn started rummaging around in the compartments in his car, and he said, "Oh no!  Oh rats!"

"What?" I asked, worried.

"I don't have my wallet," he replied, morosely.  "We can't get ice cream.  You don't have your purse, do you?"

"You told me I didn't need to bring anything," I reminded him, because he had.

He felt terrible.

"It's okay," I said.  "I'm not mad at all."

"But you invited me to get ice-cream," he said.  "You never want to get ice-cream.  And today you did, and now we can't."

"It's okay," I said.  "I was having second thoughts anyway.  I'm not the least bit mad.  I was thinking we probably shouldn't be eating ice-cream, and now we will do the healthy thing."

He looked unhappily ahead at the road.  We got to church and set up the chairs.  He was still grinding his mind, trying to figure out a way to purchase ice-cream without a wallet.  We got into the car and began the sad drive home, through the dark of an early spring evening.

Black sky, black road, smell of newly plowed fields, bright headlights, shining white stripes along the shoulder of the road.  Two warm, dry hands layered one another on the console between two front seats as the engine hummed and wheels rolled round and round and round.