In two weeks, I will turn 61. I truly never believed that I would make it this far; or be this tired when I got here. But I’m not complaining. I will spend my 61st birthday in a chair outside the communal room of the Dolphin building at Pigeon Point Lighthouse. I will wrap myself in a shawl and eat fruit from a bowl found in the cupboard. The sea air will bathe my face and the ocean’s voice will soothe me. Once in a while, I will rise from my comfortable position in the slatted wood Adirondack chair to walk along the sidewalk towards the far point. Whales will play on the near horizon, venturing close to shore once in a while. My camera phone will capture the ripple in the water and I will let my book fall to one side as I marvel at the vastness of the water.
I’ll venture up the coast to a new hostel at which I’ve never stayed, two nights there and then down to Palo Alto. Between legs, I’ll lunch with a Rotary friend in San Rafael, and meet a lawyer who thinks she can introduce me to other folks, lawyers who might know of job openings. In Palo Alto, I’ll stay in an Air BnB, in a room in the home of a friend of a virtual friend here in KC. I’ll meet with doctors, get a few treatments and some assessment, then head to San Fran for a weekend of city life. I’ll end my visit back in the Air BnB for a full day of medical appointments and then fly home. Rested, more sure of my future, calm — One hopes.
Between now and my departure, much remains to be done. But yes, I have somehow settled into the groove. I’ve learned so much; seen so much; sixty-one years has given me many opportunities for growth. I’m a Monday’s child, but I do not think I’m fair of face. I’d rather be full of grace, truth be told.
It’s the twenty-second day of the thirty-second month of My Year Without Complaining. Life continues.
“Monday’s child is fair of face…”
by Mother Goose
Monday’s child is fair of face,
Tuesday’s child is full of grace;
Wednesday’s child is full of woe,
Thursday’s child has far to go;
Friday’s child is loving and giving,
Saturday’s child works hard for its living;
But the child that is born on the Sabbath day
Is bonny and blithe, and good and gay.