Today is perfect. I woke up, got out the door on time, drove with Talia along the Autovía del Mediterráneo, wedged between the sage-dotted mountains and the sea, got to school, high fived an entire class of second graders, and discovered that all 3 of my classes that I had today were canceled due to field day.
I calmly got my jacket, collected my things, and sprinted full speed out the door. I waited at the bus stop in the pueblo. Everything was pale green, every breath of air was orange blossoms, every house was blinding white in the sun. It was the kind of spring day that makes you forget that winter ever existed.
The train curved back along a sparkling, cerulean Mediterranean sea. I got off in the center of the city. I walked slowly to the number 20 bus stop. All the flower stands were open: La Nuria, La Rubia, Florestería Andalucía. The hundred-year-old trees lining the Alameda, all getting a trim to prepare for Semana Santa, threw deep speckled shadows on the street below. I stood in line for the bus. I had my face in the sun, my eyes closed. Perfectly tranquil in the middle of Málaga, when
SPLAT.
Bird poop made a direct hit on my shoulder.
I knew it was still a perfect day, because when I turned around to the lady behind me, already reaching in her bag for a tissue, we both exploded in cheek-hurting, bellyaching laughter.
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