Mighty Mississippi and Pink Lawn Chair

I spent an hour this weekend in the sun by the river in Saint Paul. I’m not even sure which river it is, Mississippi or Minnesota. Seems a little too narrow to be the great Mississippi, but it probably is. I brought my little pink lawn chair; I really need to get a more manly one, something from Coleman with armrests that hold beercans. I packed a lunch of smoked turkey and gouda with a tomato, mayo, and country mustard, and a lime yogurt whip, and a bottle of water. It was kind of nice eating my lunch there in the sun and watching boats fight or coast with the current. Then I carried my chair down right to the waters edge to better hear the waves and let my vision skip across the water’s surface like a perfect skipping stone. Across the river on the far bank, dogs chased sticks into the water or chased each other along the beach. After the sun ducked behind clouds, I pulled out David Copperfield and read a few pages; it’s around the time his mother has died, and he is driven back home from the boys school to attend the funeral.