My perfect day...
My perfect day has a morning which lasts much longer than usual. It also contains almost all the special moments of a lifetime; (some things, like marriage and the birth of a particular child, are special in their UNrepeatability).
I wake up naturally, at 5:30 AM, at the end of a glorious and memorable dream in my own home, with my hubby softly snoring next to me. I kiss him without waking him up, and slip out of bed to greet the morning. Because this is a fantasy day (!) someone remembered to make the hazelnut coffee the night before, and I can smell it as I walk across the family room and look out the wall of unshuttered windows overlooking our property. The stars and distant city lights twinkle through the live oak trees like a rhinestone necklace, the carpet is soft under my feet, and the house is absolutely quiet. I stir 2 scoops of hot chocolate and Splenda into my strong coffee, and grabbing a banana that is just starting to freckle, I head to the library. It greets me like it does every morning, sconce lights turned low on the sage green walls, and I settle into the chair in the corner by the bookcase with all my favorite books. On the ottoman is my Bible and journal, and I set the timer on the piano to my left, because I am prone to losing all track of time in this place where I muse, and meditate, and read, and wonder, and smile, and weep, and wrestle, and praise. The words attempting to describe this encounter already fill 6 ring binders, so I will move on to where the birds are singing, the timer rings, and I look up to see sunlight streaming in through the centuries-old stained glass window hanging in the east window by the fireplace. It is from an old church in England, and in vibrant reds, greens, blues, and golds it reads, "Ye seek Jesus of Nazareth which was crucified; He is risen, He is not here!" And my perfect morning is almost complete.
I tiptoe back into the bedroom, and wake up my hubby of 25 years very slowly, because, since it's the perfect day, he doesn't have to go in to work. After a warm shower, he heads to the kitchen to make the house smell great with his gourmet breakfast skills, and then I go to the icerink and work it all off, while he does his morning thing on the riding mower. Because it's the perfect morning, the rink is virtually empty, and freshly zambonied, and I greet a couple of friends and lace up. Since it's the perfect day, I opt not to wear the crash pad, and leave the pads out of my gloves. The ice is smooth under my feet, the rush of cool air welcome in my face, and the music in my headphones spurs me on as I land every jump and execute every spin. (This IS a fantasy day, after all!) I try something new and creative, and am not discouraged by the results. At the end of 90 minutes, I am not wiped out, but exhilarated, and I have no new bruises.
On my way home there are no meds to pick up at the pharmacy, because my children have no disabilities, and we are all healthy. As I arrive home, I see my teenage son smiling as he edges the yard without being asked. I enter the house to the strains of piano music wafting in from the library; my daughter has decided to surprise me by doing the breakfast dishes, and practicing piano without being asked. I have time now to sew the gift I’m making for a friend before we have a family outing. My husband comes into the house with the news that this friend (from Australia, met online) has called to say she has been given a clean bill of health, and that she and her husband are coming here next week in response to our invitation. We then take our kids out bowling, and no one rolls their eyes at the suggestion, or laughs too hard at my gutter balls. Our teenagers laugh and chat like good friends the whole time.
When I get home, I check my emails and I have no spam. Two are from family with no bones to pick, and one is from a long-lost friend who wanted to reconnect. I spend time answering them, and then my muse starts whispering inspiration, and I write for an hour or two with NO interruptions. I then check the mailbox, and wonder of wonders, there is (finally) a reply from the book publisher!! They love my book, and have enclosed an author-friendly contract and advance. I also hear from the anthology publisher, who wants all 20 of the poems I sent her.
As I deliver a meal to my friend and neighbor later, I am met at the door with the exciting news that her cancer has mysteriously and suddenly gone into remission. We laugh and cry and hug.
That night we have small group (hah!—30 people!) from our church over to our house, and we have an unseasonably cool summer evening for our outdoor barbeque. Our pastor spends the next 2 hours attempting to lead this group of very verbal, very funny people in a semi-serious discussion on the sermon topic. At the end, there are no prayer requests because everyone’s friends and family are on top of the world, no problems. So we end with praise instead, as we enjoy a spectacular sunset.
The next day is Saturday, so we head to bed wondering if maybe, just maybe we can repeat it all tomorrow…