The flash of lights from the police car behind me heralded the utter ruin of my day. Client visits cancelled, income lost, time spent correcting a stupid oversight on my part that has cost us deeply.
I picked up my partner from work, my child from daycare and came home to a house like an oven. Forty-two degrees of burning heat, nothing defrosted for dinner, breakfast dishes still in the sink. The neighbours played angry music too loudly and shouted at one another.
I went outside to rescue the garden from dessication. As I sat on the low wall, wasting water on dead grass, my son came and sat beside me, little legs swinging. He watched me for a while, then reached for the hose.
For a moment he watered the grass, concentration etched on his face. Then he noticed how the droplets of water caught the sunlight. He held the hose up and rainbows danced in the sky. He swept the water across the yard, and over us, and the cool droplets rained down like diamonds.
I smiled when he smiled. I laughed when he laughed.
He leaned against me. We talked of nothing, sitting on the low wall, and it meant everything to me.
There was nothing in my day that could take away that pleasure.