Mobile Art Exhibit

Cruising out of the neighborhood at dawn this morning, I peered through windows still stained with dew and noticed a freshly painted lavender mailbox post in front of one of the subdivision’s older houses. I have read that lavender is the grown-up pink and symbolizes devotion and love. I decided whether it is feminine or not, this light purple gives the impression that someone optimistic and liberated abides within the owner’s walls.

When I reached the stoplight posted at the neighborhood exit, I turned right onto the four-lane county road that leads into town. Staying in the right lane, I blended with the other commuters and allowed the drivers in a hurry to pass me on my left. To better focus on my surroundings, I mostly drive without listening to the radio and today was no exception.

Keeping a watchful eye on the bike lane sandwiched between me and a wooded area adorning undeveloped property, I thought about the various ground and sky creatures which that strip of land invites. Lush palm bushes grow low and wild amid taller palms and pines. All that green may elicit thoughts of good luck or jealousy to others, but for me, it poses an energizing, yet calming effect.

Traffic became more congested as I approached closer to town and the number of traffic lights increased. I became pensive when I neared a salvage yard whose owner is known to leave large bags of food for the feral cats that roam nearby. Thoughts of my brother, who volunteered at a pet shelter and adopted assorted cats, made me angry that cancer had ended his life prematurely.

Then I spotted a pair of crushed cars on the northern side of the lot near a couple of dilapidated storage buildings, but far enough away that they stood out prominently. The two vehicles tangled together, entwined as if they were posing in sedan seduction. Rusty pastels replaced their once brightly painted metal coats unveiling a contrast to the dirt and gravel, so much so that the artful duo defied despair, offering me confidence, courage, and consolation.

Another right turn put me on the state road heading east. In front of me was a line of traffic surrounded by commercial properties, but whipped cream clouds floating above lifted my spirits to their height. The vista beyond the string of cars included the sweeping, vertical bridge over the Intracoastal Waterway. I could not see the expanse of turquoise, but I knew it was there, and I smiled in my heart as I recalled its beauty.

By the time I reached my destination, I felt like I had been driving through an art museum, one that invoked gratitude for having witnessed such a sublime exhibit of color. I am writing this as the sun grows sleepy and the view outside the dining room window reveals a salmon glow above the tree line across the pond. Visible clouds hang in various shades of gray in contrast to the cumulus ones I saw during my drive to town this morning, yet I remain high-spirited because I trust there will be a fresh palette of color on display tomorrow.