Hard and frozen, like an Omaha winter, and you put your tongue to it and your skin sticks and the two of you are sitting there, half-naked or at least partially-clothed, and trying to get to the front door to signal a neighbor and Bob, Selma’s husband, is mowing the lawn in the bright sunlight across the street, so you open the door, like Twister participants and the mower keeps going but Bob is staring, wondering if he should say hello or pretend you aren’t there, but he figures something is wrong, so he slowly turns his half screaming eyes into a “Oh-no!” look, and by your beckoning, he realizes he is being asking to come over, but then those frightened eyes return and he looks left and right as if subconsciously wanting to run. The post office truck pulls up, the postman waves to Selma, who’s pulling groceries out of the new White Camry as Sidney, Ashley, and some of the other children are breaking out of the car, (Ok maybe “popping out” of the car,) and you both can’t stop the momentum of moving forward, like twisted arms and legs at Fire Island in a fertilizer factory explosion in Texas but in slow motion as you can see everything happening in that new 8K Samsung clarity and there you are, the star.