On a day like today, in a perfect world, we would have woken up a little late, pulled baggy shorts and shirts over well-broken-in bathing suits and headed to the beach - with a brief stop at Bob's, aka The Original Saltworks, for the best grits on the planet. (I know this for sure and certain - having conducted extensive research.) We would have donned dark sunglasses and hauled once-red-now-faded-to-salmon-beach chairs down the Seaside Club walkway to set up camp in the sand for a few hours. The cooler would be brimming with bottled water, Diet Coke and maybe a Snapple if they were on sale at the Harris Teeter this week. There might be a peanut butter and jelly sandwich or some Cheese-Its or a jar of dry roasted peanuts in the beach bag and usually half a bag of ginger snaps with the top rolled down; the cookies being my strange little beach food tradition - not sure where it got started but might have something to do with them not being melty in the sun. Also in the bag: a towel or two; a few half empty tubes of sunscreen of varying SPF levels; a free-with-purchase-Clinique-makeup bag holding a hair tie or two, some change and wadded up dollar bills for the snack bar and a couple of gritty tubes of chapstick; and, a salt-water-stained Carolina visor I inherited after Justin's high school tennis playing days. Not a Carolina fan, for the record, just wear the visor because it wouldn't break my heart if it got knocked off by a wave and floated off towards Bermuda one day. Been wearing it for about fourteen years, though, so chances of this happening seem pretty slim. Oh, and a book. There is always a book. We'd read (me) or listen to something (??) through earphones (Hubs), chat with friends also encamped nearby (probably six feet away but never thought about it), or just stare at the waves. Then back home for an afternoon nap and maybe something on the grill for dinner. This would have been a perfectly ordinary Saturday for us not long ago. But the world is rarely perfect and today is way on the other side of that description. Somebody forgot to tell the sun about that, though; the weather has defied lockdown and turned out near perfect. And in spite of extenuating circumstances, we've had a pretty perfect day, too.
Hubs painted my office last weekend - one of the last vestiges of the remodel - and I had to take all the books of my shelves and stack them on the dining room table. I had honestly forgotten a lot of the books so it was like perusing a cool little bookstore where every book was one I would buy - because I had. Among the few I'd purchased but never read was a book about Fred Rogers - called The Simple Faith of Mister Rogers by Amy Hollingsworth. I set it aside and today, on this perfectly lovely Saturday, I took it to the back porch, set up camp facing the sun in my rocking chair with an insulated tumbler of iced tea nearby and fell in love with the message of Mister Rogers all over again. As much as I like the actor, Tom Hanks, I've had no desire to see his portrayal of Fred Rogers. I'm sure he did a wonderful job with utmost respect, I'm just not interested. I'd rather read about him and watch an episode or two or Mister Rogers Neighborhood every once in a while to remind me of the gentle man who was the epitome of kindness. The book I read from today is a special one. I'll not spoil it by quoting or summarizing but I do recommend it highly. The subject matter was just right for this day, in the middle of a pandemic, when I find myself feeling hemmed in and small. It did my heart good to remember the quiet power of faith and the powerful reach of the Holy Spirit.
While I read and sipped tea, the heat of the sun warmed some of the anxiety of recent days. Hubby pushed the broadcast spreader across the yard, sending arcs of fertilizer onto the grass and repaired the crossbar of the clothesline. I don't hang out clothes very often but maybe I'll do that more now it's stable. We cooked a cheese pizza for lunch and I've spent these few minutes leaking thawed-out thoughts onto paper. There's some chicken in the freezer so maybe we will fire up the grill in a bit. There's still potato salad and a few bites of strawberry cobbler in the dish - ice cream, too, last time I looked. And just maybe tonight will be cool enough to try the new fire-pit. Not perfect - just the very best kind of ordinary. And I'll take it. Every. Single. Time. Selah.
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