AUGUST 8, 2021 – Now I’m a full day of being a year older. It’ll take getting used to, just as it did (back in the day) entering the correct year on checks written in January.
Of my many August 7ths so far, yesterday’s rated high. In the morning, I basked in the generous affection of my three sisters and a brother-in-law, who hosted us—my wife, our son Byron, and daughter-in-law Mylène—for coffee and pastries on the veranda overlooking the cove. Their handwritten messages inside clever cards reassured me that I remain in my sibs’ good graces, at least “on paper.”
Later, Byron and I made a hands-on assessment of the freak show on the other side of the house. Byron climbed the massive, multi-trunk, heavy-boughs-to-the-ground pine that dominates a corner of our lot, and from the ground, I shouted my thoughts about which limbs should go and which should stay. Long an advocate of trimming the tree, Byron was surprised to hear me say, “The whole thing needs to go.”
I reassured him. In the 1920s photos of the house and grounds, back when his great-great grandfather had created a dreamscape, there was no sign of that 100-year-old tree. In the spirit of renewal fostered by my birthday celebration, I dreamed of returning house and grounds to their former glory.
Next came the new next-door neighbors, whom I’d met last Thursday. I invited them over to “meet the sisters,” and the encounter went as well as could’ve been wished. These new people are smart, interesting, interested, as sophisticated as they are humorous, and wholly down to earth. We hope they stay forever. And our family’s representatives, with the oldest in the lead, gave an account of themselves that overshadowed my own rough edges. I hoped that our new friends hope we’ll stay forever.
The day’s highlight, however, was the college graduation party hosted by the next-door neighbors on the other side. The honored graduate joked that the celebration was my birthday party, to which scores of strangers had been invited to humor me, a guy who so enjoys meeting new people. She even presented me with a handsome birthday card featuring Mount Fujiyama, which, as I pointed out to her, resembled the white peak of the party tent against the scenic backdrop of the hills beyond the cove. Amidst the turmoil and disruptions of the outside world, the fascinating guests reminded me that spaceship earth is blessed with a highly capable crew.
Late in the proceedings, my phone rang. It was our son Cory back in Minnesota, calling to wish me a happy birthday. That too made my day.
Having navigated through all festivities without a drop of wine or beer or favorite drink, I was assigned the driver’s seat for the winding way back to Chester. Once safely home, as I closed my eyes on a beautiful day, I counted my blessings. Consciousness drifted into empyrean dreams long before the count was done.
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© 2021 by Eric Nilsson
