Reflections on a Saturday Morning
It is a cool, breezy Saturday morning in summer. The world is beginning to stir. A young family walks by as I sit on the porch. The little girl chatters away in an excited voice. Her brother lags behind his parents and sister. He is examining something on the sidewalk with the greatest of interest.”
His parents try to persuade him to move along, but he seems to be in his own little world. Finally, the mother takes him by his hand and walks along with him.
Gardeners can be heard down the block using their lawnmowers. A woman walks by, her head down, texting. What is so important that she doesn’t seem to pay attention to her surroundings? One of these days, these texters will walk into a tree or a car driving by. ‘Lift up your head and enjoy the beautiful day!’ I think to myself. ‘Why are your eyes glued to that small screen?’ What a horrid modern-day affliction! There is a beautiful world surrounding you. Delight in it.
A grandmother sedately pushes a baby in a stroller, contentedly crooning it to sleep. I look forward to observing her walk by every day. Her love for that infant brings a smile to my face.
The breeze rustles through the trees. The birds twitter and some early rising cicadas wake up for the summer to hum their songs. Turtledoves coo. My old clock in the hallway strikes ten. It has been a companion to me through so many passages of my life, like an old and comfortable friend.
I walk into the kitchen for another cup of tea before the world is fully awake. I feel a sense of peace. I want this sense of quietude to last forever. What a pleasant way to spend a morning, I think to myself.
I bring back my cup of tea and continue reading my book, as I sip.
I have become hooked on the works of the late Egyptian author, Naguib Mahfouz’s. His tales fascinate me. He sweeps me back to bye gone times, to a world very similar to the one I used to know. It enchants me. I have read five of his books. I read them over and over again. There are some books that are old friends on my bookshelves. Mahfouz’s books are just a few of them. As long as I have my friends, I am never lonely. I do not have to walk to the library. All I have to do is visit my old companions that live in my bookshelves.
When I was a five or six-year-old, my father made me aware of reading. He gifted me with many books. I still own and treasure them. Grimms’ Fairy Tales, Hans Christian Andersen, Great Expectations, Oliver Twist, Old Russian Folk Tales, Greek Myths, they all lived on my bookshelves since I was a young girl. I couldn’t bear to part with any of them when we came here. They all came with me along with other books that I cherish. My father had ingrained a deep love of literature, art, and music within me. What a beautiful gift he endowed me with! Did I ever express my gratitude to him? It was one of the greatest gifts he had given me, and he gave me many.
Winter days, I do not like to go out too much. I put on my classical music, pick a book to read, snuggle into the much-used armchair in the bedroom, and I am perfectly happy to visit with whichever book I happen to be reading. As I get older, I find my needs are perfectly satisfied with the world of my books, music, my friends, my family, and my home. There is not much more I am in need of in this world now.
Many years ago, when Peter and I were in our forties, we met an old lady who also was happy with her own company, her music, and her artwork. She had a quiet way about her. She drew her strength from deep within herself, as if from a clear well. Her serenity impressed me then. Now I seem to be walking along the same path. Perhaps when you become a widow and partially alone, you have no other choice. You gather from all the love you have received and given throughout your years. You hold it safely in your heart and draw strength from it. When my son Kelly was a little boy, he had gone to boarding school. He was finding it hard to cope. He needed to explain that to the headmaster. He told him, “You know, I am not alone. I have a family that loves me very much.” It brought tears to my eyes when the headmaster reported that to me. Now I tell myself the same thing. From the mouths of babes.
I hear the sound of children laughing in a garden across the street. They are giggling in delight. A Monarch butterfly flits by, a lone bird sings its heart away. The breeze still whispers sweet nothings as it meanders through the trees. It sounds like quiet waves that caress the shore of a lake. I reflect on the sense of beauty and peace I feel on this day. I sigh a sigh of contentment as I get up to get another cup of tea.
I am not alone. I draw strength from all the love that I experienced and cherished throughout my days on this beautiful earth. The love that is preciously sheltered deep within my heart. No, I am not alone.