Day of My Life

The woman sitting in front of me was skin and bones. From the back I estimated her to be in her eighties and quite frail. She sat in a barely held together lawn chair that had RYAN hand written on the back of it in large letters. I wondered if she knew Ryan or had picked it up at a garage sale.

The band played country folk style as more and more people gathered. I sat on the curb of the sidewalk listening… and watching. Watching small children in strollers with plastic sunglasses, old men with gray beards and beer bellies get in line for their favorite brew, teenagers masterfully dancing with bright hula-hoops. Those have been around forever, I thought, secretly wishing I had invented them. Interesting how things that seemed to become extinct as some point are now reappearing. Some things. Not everything. I contrasted my etch-a-sketch, (which I played with constantly) with the Apple laptop I’m using this very moment.

People were huddling together in the shade trying to escape the hot sun. Funny, I mused, basking happily, knowing full well that my right shoulder was burning to a crisp and yeah... I like it!

Observing others is a learning experience. I really hadn’t done much of it until my sister told me that she and her husband (who travel often) enjoy sitting in public places “people watching”.

Everyone has a story. And as they strolled by me, I tried to imagine what their stories might be. What brought them here? How many of them knew the band personally? Near the stage was an attractive woman who seemed close to my age. I’ve seen her several times before. She has been to every concert of the only local band I “follow” (meaning I think they’re awesome and if I make a strong effort to attend their concerts if possible). Interesting to see her at another band’s performance. She’s a really good dancer and draws quite a bit of attention to herself. But I’ve never seen her with anyone. Little girls watch her with admiration in their eyes.

I finally decided to get on my bike and ride home. My little hometown was still recovering from being flooded last Fall. I-pod in my pocket and ear buds firmly planted, I headed west bound down Roger’s Road. The sun was now setting. In crazy irony, the songs in my ears were ridiculously applicable. When Elton John's song Don’t Let the Sun Go Down On Me played I couldn’t help but sing along "although I search myself, it’s always someone else I see”. How appropriate, I thought. Since my divorce I’ve been on a quest to find contentment in the core of who I really am.

The next song was my daughter’s wedding song. She just got married a week and a half ago. She is the person I always wanted to be. Although I am admittedly biased, she is honestly the beautiful woman I've ever known, both inside and out. I smiled and increased my peddle speed to the rhythm. “Lord God,” I pray, “Bless their marriage. May they always put You first and one another’s needs second”. I thanked Him that her new husband is a man after God's own heart. He loves my daughter as Christ loves His church.

I don’t know how many songs played while I peddled and prayed. All I know is that Nora Jones was singing Come Away with Me. Such a sensual song. My son also was also married less than two weeks before my daughter (I know, right?). He has grown into a handsome and passionate young man. He looked like Prince Charming stepped right out of a fairy tale and his beautiful new wife was truly radiant with beauty and love for him. "Lord, may the love they have now become only stronger through the years..."

Before I knew it, I found myself coasting up the driveway of my condo.


This contemplative state has become my norm. Everything I smell, touch, and see has a deeper meaning. It keeps me awake at night asking God to show me what He would have me do with my life.  All I want is to make a difference somehow.


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