I confess that I entered the world on Labor Day Monday, 09/05/55 at 9:05 p.m. My mother claimed to have found the coincidence less than amusing, though she also admitted to an easy birth. I should be grateful. The rest of my life has been middling difficult.
This week marks my 68th birthday followed by what would have been my mother’s ninety-seventh. Each dawn brings another gift, though sometimes I feel as though I squander these precious hours. As my birthday nears, the solitude seeps into my pores like poison. Deep within my soul, an old malaise stirs. So I got online, made a last-minute hotel reservation for which I paid too much, and headed west.
I spent an hour sitting on a picnic bench at a state beach, reading and letting the ocean’s voice soothe me. The poor fare at the restaurant where I had a late lunch nearly derailed my mood, as did the unhelpful desk attendant at what must be the worst inn in Half Moon Bay. But I still believe that this sojourn by the sea will ultimately raise my spirits. My lips tremble; tears threaten; but I intend to drive north a few miles to see if I can watch the sun set on the Pacific. It can only help. It certainly will not make anything worse.
It’s the third day of the one-hundred and seventeenth month of My Year Without Complaining. Life continues.
There are five pictures in the gallery; it might lag. My apologies.
To read about my September fundraising effort, click this link.