I got final
confirmation that my mom's 60th birthday celebration was a success, in
the form of a letter which she actually wrote and mailed even before I'd
left town.
It reads:
Dear
Alyce,
Thank
you for the wonderful birthday party you guys put together. It was
a lot of work, but it went off without a hitch (once everyone got
into the same place), the food was great & everyone had fun.
I loved your toast & will keep it's printed version with my
family treasures (I have a lot of them). I am a pretty lucky Mom
to have kids who care as much as you all do.
Thanks
also for the absolutely decadent mandarin orange bath things. What
with dogs & cats pounding around the bathroom, drinking water,
licking hair, etc., I can use a little decadence.
Love
ya,
Mom
Don't we all need a little decadence, sometimes?
I got a
little decadent today, going bra shopping at Target. No salacious details
here (nyah, nyah, nyah!), but I was happy to see I'm once again wearing
the same size I wore as a college undergrad. Wish the rest of me was down
to that size already, but it's good that at least part of me is.
My elation
at this good news was partly deflated when I lost a contact outside the
dressing room. At first my contact had just shifted in my eye, and I borrowed
someone's compact mirror and put it back. But I'd put some eye drops in
and was walking away when the vision in my left eye grew noticeably blurry.
I had to
drive home with one eye shut.
This morning
I was walking my dog, Una, when I saw a neighbor I hadn't seen for awhile.
He had a deep uneven tan, with patches of sunburn. In addition, he looked
like he'd lost about 15 pounds, and his hair had gone from salt and pepper
to bleached white.
"Haven't
seen you in awhile," I remarked. All summer, I'd only seen his wife,
gardening and walking their dogs.
"I've
been overseas," he said.
"Oh,
where?"
"Iraq.
I do intelligence. I was there for two months." His voice was scratchy,
hoarse, as if he'd spent the last two months screaming at the top of his
lungs.
"I'm
sorry. I can't even imagine what you've seen over there..."
"Oh,
I'm not in that area," he said, but didn't elaborate. After a pause,
"It's been a hell of a year. I have to go back in 10 days."
His dogs
ran over to the fence to greet me and we talked about them, like we usually
do. I told him I couldn't believe how big they've grown; I remember when
they were puppies. In fact, he got these dogs because he fell in love
with Una and wanted some dogs of his own.
"This
one will protect you," he said, pointing to the large black dog which,
I've noticed, barks more than the other one. "His name is Toke."
Then he pointed to the long-haired blonde dog with the sunny disposition.
"He's Dylan. He's a water dog. That's why we have the swimming pool
out there." There was a plastic kiddy pool half-filled with water.
Dylan was lying next to it, happy mouthing a tennis ball.
After a
little while, I wanted to get going on my walk again, but I didn't know
what to say:. "Sorry you have to go back to Iraq"? "Please
stay safe, you're one of my favorite neighbors"?
Instead,
I said, "Well, enjoy the rest of the day."
"I
will," he said with a sigh. "The next 10 days, too."
"Maybe...
try some meditation," I added, wondering why I'd said that.
"Oh,
I have been," he said with a smile. Somehow I wasn't surprised. "Have
a nice walk," he said, as he ducked into his house.
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