Day Eight: Saturday Notes

I sat in the lobby last night with many other folks, listening to Cuban musicians of the lovely guitar solos and sublime blendings of the voice.  It was the tender songs that moved me the most.  Those voices wafted over the couches and chairs, blessing us all.  I sat opposite a young family – mom, dad, and two kids.  During one of the fast numbers, mom stretched her arm out to ten-year-old daughter.  They found a clear space and proceeded to boogie, hand in hand.  Oh, the smiles!  Including a big one from dad, who was sending love from his seat.  I imagined him visualizing his daughter in a wedding dress, the two of them walking down the aisle.


Elisabeth is a young waitress in the lobby bar.  We laugh and she bubbles.  “All right, Bruce?”  As in “Do you want another drink?”  Always with a smile.  Yesterday she showed me her wedding pictures on her iPhone.  Hubby and wifer just glowed.  Elisabeth says she loves him the most because he’s kind.  A good way to be, young man.  She joys in her marriage and sorrows with me as I miss Jody.  Elisabeth knows very little about golf but looks thrilled when I talk about The Masters or the beauty of the swing.  She’s very smart … it’s just that golf isn’t part of her world.  I’m glad she’s part of mine, even if briefly.


I sat next to a skink yesterday, as least that’s what I’d call him if he was skittering across the boardwalk at Point Pelee in Ontario.  He’s a tiny lizard: body two inches and tail the same.  He clung to a nearby branch for at least fifteen minutes, making eye contact.  When he breathed, his throat expanded into a flag of orange.  Just Skinkie and Brudie hanging out.  Thanks, short one, for slowing me down.


It’s such a meditation to let the body do what it feels like doing, especially when the result is pain.  And a mystery.  I’m trying to take care of the physical form, with good nutrition and exercise as my energy allows, but well-being isn’t following at the moment.  “Let it be, Bruce.  You’re not going to die.  It’s just another square on the patchwork quilt of your life.”  Well said, whoever it is that’s talking.


I was sitting in a restaurant, minding my nutritional business, when a fellow approaches and asks “Are you Canadian?”  I didn’t answer him.  Instead, I sang “O Canada” as he gaped, I think amusedly.  How lovely to have my strategic brain turn off once in awhile and let the melody flow.  He laughed and applauded at the end.  I just laughed.

4 thoughts on “Day Eight: Saturday Notes

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