Yellow (editing)

An Ineffable Kind of Feeling

On Saturday, I woke up.

Well, as I usually do. But this time something extremely different and exotic happened and I found myself wanting to wake up.

There were many reasons as to why that was so, for example, a) my room did not feel empty and the bad kind of maroon, b) my blanket felt like the comfortable kind of cool, not too hot and not too thin, and c) it did not feel like I was stuck in an endless winter of brain-deadedness, unlike most days. Another reason would be that it felt like it would be a Good Day; not just a "good day", but a Good Day. There are a variety of words that can be used to describe the feeling of a day that is not sucky, but nothing expresses a non-sucky day better than the simple definition of a Good Day. And the reason I knew it was going to be a Good Day was because my window was cracked open enough that a warm breeze was blowing in and the birds were chirping happily outside in a very Good Day kind of way.

So, in honour of the Good Day, I ate breakfast with my parents and actually engaged in conversation (which made my mom worry a little), as well as trying to find the least smelly and most fashionable outfit (which made my mom quite pleased). I frantically packed enough sandwiches and juice boxes to last kindergartners for three decades, and a blanket that was soft to the point where the fluffiest dog would be jealous. Last but not least, I had asked my dad to drive me to Orenda's house, but decided not to tell my dad exactly why I needed to go to Orenda's house. Although he seemed to know that I had something planned because he kept questioning why I was so anxious about how my breath smelled.

"It's because smelly breath is a huge turn off, dad."

"A few turn offs never costed anybody their life," he said as he started the car engine.

"Tell that to a 40 year old man who still lives in their parents' basement."

"Don't talk about your uncle like that!"

"I have an uncle?"

"See? Gullibility. Now that's a turn off." My dad laughed and I groaned.

I wasn't exactly comfortable to tell my dad that I was taking her out on a picnic date, even though there was absolutely nothing wrong with it. It was just that under usual circumstances, the picker-upper would drive on his own to the alleged date's house and pick the date up and it would be romantic and not awkward white cane clicking. Unfortunately for me, it was an impossible feat, so letting my dad drive me to Orenda's house was the next best thing.

The car eventually stopped and I checked my breath once more for good measure. "Dad," I fixed shirt quickly, "are you sure my breath doesn't smell? Because that would be embarrassing."

"Bud, you're fine. Don't burp in her face. Open doors for her. Keep your hands to yourself. You know all that stuff." He pat me on the back and I chuckled. "Good luck on your date."

"You caught me." I started getting out of the car and took out my white cane.

"See you, kid! Fix your hair!" I slammed the door and fixed my hair immediately. I stood awkwardly in the middle of the street as I listened to the car drive away, until there was no sound left in the air except for the birds.

I walked up the really short flight of stairs and stood on her porch, heart pounding, and knocked on the door lightly. Within a few seconds, I could hear feet scrambling to get to the door, which consequently made my heart beat even faster, and I fixed my hair once again.

"Hey Finn!" The scent of freshly baked pastries wafted out the door.

"Hey Orenda," I smiled.

A moment of silence. Orenda chuckled, "Um, how are you?"