Sailor Lost Husband Found

I'm an incurable romantic.
Being near the ocean always washes up childhood dreams and movie scenes onto the beaches of my imagination. So when I saw my dear husband, facing the sea, hand to brow, eyes fixed upon the horizon, I was thrilled. Pulling my camera from pocket I shouted “don’t move!” This of course was his cue to turn to me in confusion. Trying once more I called out…

“Do that sailor lost at sea thing again!”

He turned, faced the waves and responded with the universal sign of defiance to all foes, be they on land or sea.

Sigh and laughter… The differences between us never fail to amaze me.



You're Only 50 Once

I have been pondering lately the relationship between my obsession with time and my ability or lack thereof in making decisions. For someone who dreads the end of a day or the passing of another year, I certainly have been spending a lot of time frozen unable to get even my daily activities accomplished. You would think that the rhythm of the tick, tick, ticking would somehow pull me along, coax me to the next thing on the agenda like a Pied Piper melody.


 I have always been keenly aware, as Frances Mayes put it that...
 “Any arbitrary turning along the way and I would be elsewhere; I would be different.”
 But how did I let this knowledge bring me to a place of no turning whatsoever?

Fear!

Of course, that enemy of all things filled with life; all things creative.
embracing life in the center of the ticking clock with my face turned outward, forward is the only remedy.

 Say “yes” to trying, yes to different, yes to the passing time, “no” to stagnant, no to the frozen places in my heart.

Yes to 50 years of smiles, wrinkles and gray

Yes to new life

and child-like play

 Ice cream on a November day

And arbitrary turnings along the way.

 More...  Florida Snapshots