Some days it's easier to write when compared to other days. When preparing to write (or paint, or what-have-you), the questions are the first thing to flow like a river. Where do I begin? What do I write about or what do I create? Will anyone find the finished work interesting? As I write this, my husband Dave and I are at the harbor in South Thomaston Maine on a beautiful sunny day watching a tidal river race inward towards land, because the the tide is coming in. We just finished visiting our favorite beach - and no, I'm not going to tell you where it is; that way it remains a secret - and there were a few tourists there, but mostly locals. And even then, it was fairly empty for late August. There were the usual mix of kids present, and they were the only ones brave enough for the barely 70 degree water, save for one other woman. No fear.
Getting back to my writing setting, we noticed a moderate sized art gallery that now stands empty and is for sale, most likely for some stupid outlandish price. Speaking of art galleries, earlier in the week, Dave and I finished setting up our art show in Tenants Harbor Maine. You can tell it's been a while since I've set up in an art gallery. Boy, was I stressed. Somehow, Dave was relaxed and took it all in stride. Why can't I be like that? He can drive me nuts sometimes...
Last Friday night, my only granddaughter called me on her new cell phone. She's ten. I'm still trying to get used to fact she has a phone. Both her and her brother attend the local middle school where they live, and both of them having cell phones help their parents keep track of their whereabouts after school if they attend an after-school center which is located next door, or go to the town library, which is about three blocks away. Our conversation went something like this;
"Grammy, I miss you. When can I see you again?"
"How about tomorrow afternoon," I replied.
"Great! What can we do? I would like to go to that art class we go to in the winter. I miss that," she stated.
"Well, that's not happening right now because it's summer," I reminded her. "I was thinking either swimming or bowling."
"Bowling - definitely," she decided. "See you tomorrow. Love you, Grammy. Bye."
Okay then. I'm glad we got all those details worked out. Despite our short conversation, I do still feel loved. Bonus points for the fact that she called me; didn't text, didn't IM; actually called me. It's amazing what a simple phone call can do for people - so much more positive than Facebook. By 12:30pm on Saturday afternoon, we picked her up (her brother had already made plans to go to a friends house). We went to the local bowling alley which has been a landmark since 1960. My granddaughter is definitely getting better at candle-pin bowling. She came oh-so-close to getting her first strike, but was robbed as the last pin just wobbled there. However, she took it all in stride. Would I have done the same if that happened to me? After a few strings of bowling and a few arcade games, we all headed back to our house for a late lunch. We played cards while Dave made us all lunch. I taught my granddaughter a new card game and she almost beat me. It was a close one right up to the last hand. She was perfectly fine with the games outcome. Why do I have to be so competitive?
The next morning, Dave and I attended church, but went to the 11am service instead of our usual 8am worship. The sermon was on how to love one another in the face of adversity and disagreement. As Christians, how do we take a stand against hatred, racism, and violence? Who are we on the inside? About 2/3rds of the way through the service, a young girl, no more than 4 years old, made it a point to go around the church, shake hands with as many people as she could in a timely manner, and to say "Peace". She was letting her love shine and was a crystal clear example where, if each one of us showed each other even a little bit of love on a regular basis, there would be peace on earth.
Who were the real teachers this weekend?
Until next time,
Keep spreading the love,
Jill
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