We arrive home in the wee hours, exhausted. In whichever time zone I consider the hour it’s far, far too late for this old body to still be upright. Technically, it’s the day after we began our journey home. We stumble around suitcases and fall exhausted into bed. Unpacking will come tomorrow—or later today, depending
I think I need a vacation to rest up from my vacation. Oh wait. I’m retired. Life is already a vacation. I’m not sure why I’m feeling so tired this week, but there it is. I’m sixty now, so maybe that’s it (yeah, I’m milking this transition to senior citizen). I have little motivation, but
I plug the card from my big girl camera into my laptop and watch as the images I captured in Mexico download. The photos I’ve posted here and elsewhere so far, were taken with my phone—quick shots, without a lot of thought put into them, they are reasonable images. When I shoot with my camera, however, I’m
We pull into the driveway in the wee hours, barely coherent. We’ve been up for about twenty-four hours and, if my calculations with time zone change allowances is correct, traveling for more than half of that time. The thought comes unbidden, but speaks a tired truth: I’m too old for this. Finally, after a late flight, and
There is a family settled in on beach chairs not far from where Gerry and I have set up camp for the afternoon in a sheltered place out of the wind. The ocean is not angry, but perhaps a bit testy today. Gerry views the larger waves with a sparkle in his eye, eager to
Yes, it’s beautiful here. I don’t know why we perceive white sands, palm trees, and teal water as especially serene, but we do. Little wonder . . . it is. But is it any more awe-inspiring than snow falling from the sky like feathers dancing? Or the dry, desert-like heat of summer where we live?
I see her when we are having supper. She looks to be about eleven-years-old. Her long blonde hair falls free, it is neatly brushed, and she is wearing a one-piece green jumpsuit. She is watching the cook clean the grill and pour batter—patiently waiting for fresh waffles. Her eyes are big and observant in the