Tulip Festival Starts

The descent of the tourist hordes on my little town; not good. Not bad, either. It was like Thanksgiving, festive and the town was just over-stuffed. Cars kept pouring in like whiskey at an Irish wake and the sidewalks groaned and complained over the treading they were getting. The merchants must have been rubbing their hands with delicious delight, as the “ching” went ka-ching-a-ling and isn’t that what it is all about? An Easter egg hunt without the eggs, just the color; the green. The portraits of the presidents changing hands like trading stamps.
Too Li, the dog, drug around with me, reluctantly, at the dog-end of her red leash. Me on my trusty steed, firm grip on the reigns; or at least the handlebars. Navigating the streets, for once outracing the crawling cars. Too Li gets the eyes. She, short and little, long and cute, catching the delight of those from far away. “Look at that cute dog!”
At the market, where I go to have coffee and hang out with a couple of guys, she charmed kids and adults alike. She was a lap dog before she came to live with me. Now she is a star.
At night, the streetlights rain an orange glow on the shadow asphalt. Lights in the windows, last songs of sleepy birds. The town, not quite so tall, less fat without the rumble of Harleys and the buzz of business, smiles as Too Li and I go walking. We stroll the streets that just hours before were filled with strangers and rubber wheels. The night is my time.