Time...even to Remember
There will never BE enough time to do all the things I wish I could do. It's Friday again, even earlier, since this was a four day work week. While that was excellent news when I worked, it is different now that I am at home all week. My list of "ought to's" is immense... I never really make much headway, for there is always another load of laundry to contend with, another dinner to start preparing, endless dishes to wash, and upkeep-ing that knows no end.
I want time to write. I want to share photographs of the world as I see it, or find meaning in work of others and admire it. I want to sit in a cafe along the Mediterranean, and watch the sun set.
Actually, I did that already, once upon a time, very long ago. My friend had an apartment above Torremolinos, at the top of a hill, with a breath-taking view of the Mediterranean, where I visited her. Balconies lined one side of the rooms, revealing the roof lines of the town below, and beyond that the sea. We would take morning coffee there, then go down into town to the beach where, for a few pesatas we could rent a chaise lounge for the day, along with towels. There were sail-cloth barriers to thwart any cold winds, and small restaurants had been built right in the sand. It was considered fine to ask the lounge attendant to bring you some sangria from the restaurant, or to stroll barefoot and in bathing attire, right over to the outdoor cafe tables and linger over lunch. No rules, no interference, no "Thank you for Not Smoking" signs....just the sense that they wanted you to enjoy yourself. The city itself would have been honky-tonk were it not for the cafes brimming with atmosphere, and the pedestrian walkways everywhere that encouraged strolling, window-shopping, dawdling. Instead it exuded life, noise, joy, enthusiasm.
The sun sets very late in that part of the world... not until 9:30 or so. And I remember sitting with my friend in a cafe, with a glass of sangria and watching the sun set on this sea that has witnessed so much through the centuries. The last licks of light flickered on the currents, and the fruit from the sangria hit me right in the lip.
I want time to write. I want to share photographs of the world as I see it, or find meaning in work of others and admire it. I want to sit in a cafe along the Mediterranean, and watch the sun set.
Actually, I did that already, once upon a time, very long ago. My friend had an apartment above Torremolinos, at the top of a hill, with a breath-taking view of the Mediterranean, where I visited her. Balconies lined one side of the rooms, revealing the roof lines of the town below, and beyond that the sea. We would take morning coffee there, then go down into town to the beach where, for a few pesatas we could rent a chaise lounge for the day, along with towels. There were sail-cloth barriers to thwart any cold winds, and small restaurants had been built right in the sand. It was considered fine to ask the lounge attendant to bring you some sangria from the restaurant, or to stroll barefoot and in bathing attire, right over to the outdoor cafe tables and linger over lunch. No rules, no interference, no "Thank you for Not Smoking" signs....just the sense that they wanted you to enjoy yourself. The city itself would have been honky-tonk were it not for the cafes brimming with atmosphere, and the pedestrian walkways everywhere that encouraged strolling, window-shopping, dawdling. Instead it exuded life, noise, joy, enthusiasm.
The sun sets very late in that part of the world... not until 9:30 or so. And I remember sitting with my friend in a cafe, with a glass of sangria and watching the sun set on this sea that has witnessed so much through the centuries. The last licks of light flickered on the currents, and the fruit from the sangria hit me right in the lip.
posted by Linda @ 10:29 AM
2 Comments:
At 12:17 AM,
Lynn said…
That beautifully painted-with-words image is amazing....
Half tempted to make a "short story" as to how it would really go if it were my life, and something I was looking back on.
#1) I'd be lugging half the world there, with a multi colored pails, few of which still have handles.
#2) My sangria would have sand in it. And I'd probably prefer that over the fruit anyway.
#3) I hear the sounds of the ocean, lapping against the shore with a rythm that almost lulls you into a soft snooze, interrupted about every 45 seconds of one of my girls shreaking about the hermit crabs the boys put into her cute new shoes.
#4) And interspersed with that screaming, I can hear another, small girl saying "Well, that guy is so HOT that when you touch him he goes SSSSSSSSSSSSSS". And, if that wasn't enough....asking repeatedly which of us would we prefer to kiss...the beach chair guy or the guy who made the drinks???
#5) This is why you went alone huh?? But Mom, didnt you MISS US???
#6) This is before the important tradition of visiting a local ER for some part of Joe's noggin.
#7) This is why I no longer dream. Will it ever return????
#8) Lest I still have Kathryn's copy of BOSTON MAGAZINE with her "college freshman, hot Merrimack boyfriend" to read in the ER while Joe dictates what proceedures he will allow vs not allow.
At 10:20 AM,
Kathy Schwartz said…
My favorite vacation activities:
1. Negotiating who gets to push what button on the elevator.
2. Convincing the boys (all three of them) that being at the beach means actually going TO THE BEACH and not watching television.
3. Making them all stay at the beach all day.
4. You have buckets?
5. Negotiating who gets what shovel and ensuring the shovel isn't used as a weapon against anyone else.
6. Realizing that the beach just wouldn't be fun without my boys.
7. While, at the same time, wishing they weren't there at all!
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