First, there's the waking up to the sound of the surf.
Second, the divine smell of coffee perking.
Third, the great book I'm reading (What Every American Should Know About the Middle East ~ I know it sounds dry but it's fantastic) that's right on my night table so I can just prop myself up in bed and start to read because it's my birthday so why get up?
Fourth, there's the phone call from daughter #1 with birthday wishes and the family news catch-up. All is well.
Fifth, there's the email from grandson Andrew with felicitations of the day and a telephone date for 11:30 AM. Right on schedule he called and we had a great chat. It is so satisfying to have lived long enough to have a talk with a little boy who has grown into a smart, funny, charming, intellectually curious and gifted man.
Sixth, there are phone calls and visits from locals with all good wishes, bouquets of flowers and a wonderful gift of a book that I have, as of this writing, almost finished. Alan Bennett's ~ he of Beyond the Fringe ~ "An Uncommon Reader." If you haven't read it, rush right out . . .
Seventh, there's the arrival of Helen to listen to "The Magic Flute", or as it turned out, the first act of same. By leaving, here's what she missed! I sat on the sofa gazing out at the deep blue sea thinking to myself, "Does it get any better than this? Mozart, the sparking ocean, and the prospect of another year." I don't know what I did to deserve this but I'm not going to question it too closely.
Eighth, emails from niece Kaley, her darling hubby, and daughter #2 Caitlin. This is the first year I have not had a chat with my sister on my birthday. These dates are hard remembrances of her absence.
Ninth, a lovely dinner by candlelight and soothing sea breezes while being serenaded by André Bocelli. We decided to save the cava for tomorrow night. It will give a certain caché to the tongue tacitos!
And finally, ten, just being here in this lovely place with a group of wonderful cohorts and fellow escapees from the madness of el norte. I am truly blessed.
The perfect start to a new year.
The Trees
by Philip Larkin
final stanza
Yet still the unresting castles thresh
In fullgrown thickness every May.
Last year is dead, they seem to say,
Begin afresh, afresh, afresh
by Philip Larkin
final stanza
Yet still the unresting castles thresh
In fullgrown thickness every May.
Last year is dead, they seem to say,
Begin afresh, afresh, afresh
3 comments:
Happy Birthday Susan! Wish I was there to wish it in person!
Wish you were, too. It was a lovely, lovely day. I had my family ~ albeit by long distance ~ and friends with me to usher me into a new year. What more can one ask?
Sounds divine!
Post a Comment