We go out for lunch at a favourite place where they serve an Indian food buffet. Three young people come in, while we’re feasting on things like butter chicken, vegetable korma, and naan bread, and sit at the table behind me.
Unable to keep from overhearing their conversation about profs and grades and assignments, we smile. It seems like a lifetime since that was our world. It was, I suppose. Many lifetimes, really.
I think of a young woman returning to school full time after her youngest started first grade. She had a goal and a focus. I’m proud of her and her determination. It wasn’t easy. It was dang hard, in fact. But in some ways those days were halcyon.
Anyway, back to the present and the paneer and a spontaneous lunch out in the middle of the week for no particular reason at all. We have an errand to run on the way home. Later, Gerry plans to pull pots from the garage and give whatever is overwintering in them a drink of water. I plan to curl up with a book, and maybe close my eyes because I’m dead dog tired after a restless night.
Yeah. These are the real halcyon days.
A lovely day it seems happened rather serendipitously. I love those days. Halcyon has been a favorite word of mine for years; maybe more like decades. I think it represents for me the calm and peace I never experienced as a child growing up. Now I crave those halcyon days or even moments that come along in retirement.
Indian buffets are the greatest. I like goat curry, vindaloo, pakoras, and a lot of other things.