My perfect suburban moment

It was a Friday at the end of a long, hellish week. By the time all my classes were over and I was leaving work, it was already getting dark outside, aside from the intense sunset that was quickly slipping below the horizon. As I passed Baldwin Hall, the top of the building glowed like hot metal, reflecting the last rays of daylight in a brilliant hue of gold. The air was cold and the wind blew over the tops of my open shoes and up my jeans leg, drying out my skin even more. My ears smarted and my eyes started to water from the cold. I pedaled furiously up the street, making a wide right turn in front of my house, gliding into my yard, and jumping off my bike as I reached the porch. Someone had had the forethought to turn on the porch light for me; that made me smile. As I opened the door, I saw my roommate standing in the kitchen, bouncing our kitten on her hip. Our good friend was standing beside her.

"Dinner's all taken care of, Emma," he said. The kitchen looked clean; dishes were drip-drying in the dish drainer, the counters were cleared of all the recycling, the cast iron skillet had been cleaned and was sitting on a spotless stove top. All the counters had been wiped down and I could tell the rug had been washed. As we moved into the living room, I could see that the rug had been vacuumed, the floors had been swept, the blankets folded and the pillows arranged artfully on the couch. The Clue board was laid out on the coffee table, cards dealt, pieces in place.

"We've got a joint rolled," my roommate offered. We all sat down in a circle around the game board, settling into the warmth of the living room. We each picked up our favorite pencils, our score cards from last night, and whichever book we'd been using for a hard surface.

It was like I had come home to my loving family after a hard day's work; dinner was in the oven, my favorite things were all laid out for me; the house was clean. If that's what it's like to live in Suburbia, I guess it's not so bad after all.