I find myself satiated by the joy this little guy brings with his every hop and bounce into whatever and wherever. He is on the ready with an easy yes when it comes to any adventure under the sun or moon. I no longer think of what I gave up to move across the whole country to prance about with him; I count my lucky stars that we did.
This week it took some extra effort to rise above the unraveling of so much happening in our world. But I am grateful for the reminders from nature to do just that. Walking out under a broad blue sky, hearing the screech of hawks circling overhead, watching our grandson scramble past the bird of paradise and lizards and palm trees along the hill toward the playground all shift my perspective toward a better place, one that allows for the firm belief that goodness will prevail, as day always follows night.
I see my life flipping back through the album bin. Where did I really start? Probably when my parents met, when for a fleeting second they played with cousins and friends on a beach that eventually became home to all of us once we too arrived on the scene. But back then it was just theirs to run on. So perhaps, this album would be called “Run On Babe.” Their’s was an epic run as was most pictured here along side the colored cabanas resting on that rocky Long Island northern shore. Perhaps you can hear strands of Sinatra and Fitzgerald crooning while surrounded by a big band filling the sultry heat of a beachy summer night?
Nine Cent Girl 