Quite Possibly The Most Perfect Sunday Ever

It is not possible for it to be a more beautiful day.

It’s sunny and windy. I always like wind. I’m less a fan of sun unless there’s a good wind. The sun today means that, when the angle is right, Lake Superior glitters. It’s glittering right now but it’s impossible to capture in a picture.

The day is also beautiful because there are no flies. This is because the wind is coming from the west mostly. When it comes from the south, the flies are vicious. Biting and persistent.

I spent the morning part of this jeweled day in my pajamas on the porch, eating donuts and drinking coffee and talking about the evolution of community organizing, the parallels between the Dust Bowl’s Black Sunday and the January 6th Insurrection, and fall goals. When I talked about taking a writing class and going back to my writing workshop, my husband said it was time to get my writing life back in order. That stung, but he is right.

Then came a flurry of straightening up activity when we thought we might have to head home right away. Braxton-Hicks contractions can cause that kind of hubbub. But things seem to have quieted down on the seven months’ pregnant daughter front. And so we are poised for action but not fluttering about needlessly.

I finished a book, Ahab’s Wife, that I had quit on a few days ago in favor of reading yet another book about Donald Trump’s horrible presidency. But I went back to Ahab’s Wife because it seemed there had to be more to it than where I’d left off and there was, much more. Finishing it meant I could sit in the sun with good purpose.

It is a long trek to the beach even though our house is right on the lake. It is set back probably a couple of hundred yards. The land is hilly, little swells of sand much like the swells of the lake, and there are a thousand different kinds of plants, all of them exquisitely sturdy. The dogs and I sat on the sand, watching folks down the way pick through rocks looking for agates. I don’t know agates but they fascinate a lot of people.

I piled rocks and thought a lot of great thoughts – like how getting old is easier if you believe you’re going to live to be a hundred so you always have the notion in your head that you have plenty of time. If you don’t think you have plenty of time, it doesn’t make you live in the moment as much as it keeps you from having big plans and goals with teeth.

I called out to Swirl who was then laying far away in the sand as if he was a wild animal just stopping for a rest. He came, his big tail wagging, and then his ultra-shy and hesitant pal, Punchy, came, too, the both of them wagging and grinning and I scratched both of them behind their ears and petted their sweet heads. It was just a seconds-long thing and then they were off to their spots again. If I was to take a quiz, I’d say this was the best part of the day although it’s only 6:00 o’clock and a lot more could happen.

I loved this day. Plus, on my neighbor’s recommendation and because wine is so insanely expensive in our tiny town, I bought a box of wine where it sits proudly in my beat-up refrigerator, already tapped.

One Comment on “Quite Possibly The Most Perfect Sunday Ever

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