Tuesday, May 10, 2016

Contacting the Depths of Truth

Your days are short here;
this is the last of your springs.
And now in the serenity and quiet of this lovely place,
touch the depths of truth, feel the hem of Heaven.
You will go away with old, good friends.
And don't forget when you leave
Why you came. 
- Adlai Stevenson

It took almost until the middle of the day on Sunday but finally, after what had felt like an interminably long period of time under which to live beneath a moss-covered blanket, the sun reacquainted itself with the State of Concrete Gardens.  Strictly from a meteorological perspective, the weekend as a whole might not have been a keeper but in every other important way it most certainly was. 

The younger adult offspring's professional responsibilities require him to travel out of his time zone on an infrequent basis.  As luck would have it, they have placed him squarely in the state of his birth for at least a couple of weeks, which meant that for the first time since 2008, he spent Mother's Day with Margaret.  

Gun-metal gray skies be damned, the Missus and I headed to our little Paradise by the Sea on Saturday afternoon in advance of a planned rendezvous with Rob and with Suzanne and Ryan.  For him, Saturday marked the first time that he had the chance to see firsthand the home on which I pissed away his inheritance.  For Suzanne and Ryan, it was the first time they had seen it since last September, which meant that what they saw on Saturday bore scant resemblance to that which they had seen then.  It was also their new puppy's maiden voyage and, presuming the people at the shelter from which they rescued Leo are close to being right about his age, he was still (to borrow a phrase from the Poet Laureate of Freehold) "just around the corner to the light of day" the last time his human traveling companions were there.  

The five of us enjoyed dinner Saturday night in a nice little joint on Main Street in Belmar, Waves on Main, with Denise and Joe.  Had Jess been able to scare up a flight east to join her husband, we would have a complete octet.  As it was, we soldiered on without her.  Later on Saturday night, the five of us ambled over to Avon-by-the-Sea to see a little live music, where we had the pleasure of spending time with a long-time friend of mine, George, and George's wife, Mel.  

Sunday morning I enjoyed my first post-marathon run.  I had forgotten how much fun it is to run when you are simply running and not "training" for a specific long-distance event.  I loafed my way through approximately six miles and felt great doing it.  Truth be told, my legs were a bit stiff after having not run at all in seven days and it took about two miles to shake off the cobwebs altogether but I really could not have cared less.  I saw the sun coming up over the Atlantic Ocean and my time was my own.  As good a way to spend a Sunday morning as any of which I am aware.  

And best of all was that Margaret spent Sunday in what is - for her - the best possible way to spend a Sunday - or any day of the week that ends in "d-a-y" for that matter.  And the fact that it was Mother's Day and she spent it in the company of the two adults who call her "Mom" undoubtedly catapulted Sunday to the top of Margaret's "Best Day of 2016" list.  I am just happy that I was there to see her enjoy it.  

I know not whoever first coined the phrase "Happy wife, happy life" but whoever she was, she certainly knew of which she spoke.  



Iguana Dave said...

Sounds great

Adam Kenny said...

As days go, it was pretty damn fine indeed!