12/17/2011

all the time in the world


What an incredible and priceless gift is the gift of time.  Time to simply watch waves chase one another onto the beach.  Watch the shells tumble and spin it its wake.  Time to observe the seagulls wheel and turn in the sea breeze.  The leisure time to watch a small sailboat traverse the bay from south to north. 

As a Senior, I now have the prized gift of time.  Enough time to observe the world around me - enough time to simply ‘waste time’. 

Getting old isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.  It’s so much better! I’ve found that instead of something to dread, it is a pure gift to live long enough to be beyond the busy-ness of raising a family, tending to a husband, working a job, keeping house and hearth together.  Except for caring for my two little doggies, I have nothing I ‘must’ do every day.  I can neglect housework, let laundry pile up, prepare only simple meals, sweep floors only when I’m inspired to do so. 

A few days ago I visited a small bayside park on Charlotte Harbor in SW Florida.  It was a sunny, breezy day.  Only a few fishermen were on the fishing pier far out on the water.  There isn’t really a beach here, just a short piece of rocky shoreline so I sat in my car listening to Classical Christmas music and reading a book interspersed with long stretches of just looking at the scene before me.  Pachelbel’s Canon seemed perfect inspiration for the gulls as they swooped across and down then up again into the sky. 

Right next to the parking area was a tiny 1950’s era bungalow and small back yard that ended right at the shoreline.  I watched an equally tiny lady as she puttered about her yard.  She had a few perennials and a few small palms – nothing needing much care like roses or vegetables.  She had a few clothes on her clothesline.  Since I have ‘time to waste’, I made unfounded guesses about what her life story might be.  How long had she lived there?  Was she a transplant from a different climate like me?  I saw no evidence of pets – but perhaps she had a cat inside the house?  Probably she was a widow – but perhaps she had been a single all her life?  If I had a better imagination, all this could be the menu for a novel.  I could make her out to be anything I could fancy. 

Now – isn’t this a wonderful thing ???  To simply have the time to simply sit still and let my imagination take Flights of Fancy.  ~Pam

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