Here am I, pondering the mysteries of sitting up late at night, finding that night is such a gift–deep, protective–and yet sometimes unbearably long, tedious, fraught with goblins of many kinds–and all of this within minutes. I remember chasing fireflies in Iowa as a kid, and, some years later, sitting at our first kitchen table, a table Lowell built, in our early married years. I was wreathed in happiness. Our marriage was a joy at the time and those days are a joy to remember, and that was when John F. Kennedy was President, and Betty Friedan published The Feminine Mystique, full of things with which I instantly identified. I feel both lucky and blessed to be alive for all these years, and still be married to that same terrific man, who has a smile that can stop me dead in my tracks. What can be more wonderful than the gift of life–and of a long, close marriage!
Now if we could turn the clock back about thirty years, and have it to do again. Oh, sorry, I remember, we only get to go around once. Seize the moment!