For the first time since January (when I was so close to Venezuela that it didn’t count) I am warm outside. A turning point. A huge step into the next stage of life. In which I am going to take endless big steps and finally move forward.
Ed nudges me to play tennis and I do, but I get distracted. By the conversation of two older East Asian men (there are many East Asians here, just up the street, and they come to the tennis courts often and they play integenerationally and very well)…
…By the school class that takes their tennis lesson here (and they all play badly but with such energy that it doesn’t matter)…
…and finally by my own poor plays that rise in frequency with each degree added to the thermometer. At 59 degrees, Ed suggests we stop for the day.
We pick up odds and ends at the grocery store and I return home to work.
Want to go on the bike ride later? – he asks.
No, not tonight, I have big things to do today and I expect I will be doing them all the time. (He does not press for detail and that’s good, because right now, all I can see are the contours of greatness. Magnificence without specifics.)
At 63 degrees, but really in the sun it’s almost 90 (I know because my outdoor thermometer is poorly positioned), I stop working, go out on the balcony and sit, thinking big thoughts.
It is so beachlike out there that I reach for sunscreen. I read a New Yorker story about twin brothers, both writers, and I think about my daughters – neither would call herself a writer (I don't think) and they are not twins, but they are twin-like in their closeness.
Inside, I take one more look at my work notes, close that page and open a new one for a blogpost.
Later, I take an evening walk and watch a young woman walk a tightrope. Made tight in partnership with her friend.
Do all spirited days have warm beginnings? Looking forward. It’s so important to look ahead to even greater days.
