Tomorrow Is a Long Time
There are rumblings of change in our existence here which have grown loud enough in the last few days to be considered imminent. Packing boxes are stacked up by the front door and it looks like our dog will have a new park to explore very soon. I awoke this morning to the familiar feeling of a fresh beginning waiting impatiently in the wings for the next act while the stage sets of scenes gone by are removed. It’s a feeing that deepens the meaning of every scenario that plays out while it is present, like a photographer composing the shot for the rosy tinted image which will linger in our mind’s eye long after our lives have moved into a new chapter.
I took the dog to the beach in the middle of the week. It was a day of cool blues and grey and the ocean shone with hues of dull silver while the sun cast its glow down through the low light clouds. We could have stayed there forever as far as Duke was concerned. Grinning with happiness he ambled along the boardwalk and I meandered beside him reveling silently in the moments of stillness and dreamy peace.
My husband and I took most of yesterday to ourselves. Heading out earlier than usual we went to an afternoon showing of Clint Eastwood’s latest offering, Richard Jewell. Wonderful for its warm humanity and terrifying in terms of the behavior it exposes in equal measure we were both very glad to have taken the time to see it. Exiting the movie theatre it was surprisingly lovely to find the evening before us to enjoy. We walked along the bluff, watching the last moments of sunset shimmer in the pink sky and remembered again the space of parents without children.
On the spur of the moment we ate an early dinner at one of our old favorites Ivy at the Shore. With wonderful service and quietly humming conversation all about us, we sat chatting of matters serious and frivolous. While my husband was deep in description of a career related issue I suddenly thought of the wonder of a long marriage and how love, in its truest sense, can pervade it. And that moreover it is participation in such an endeavour that creates the space to grow beyond the narrow confines of one’s own likes and wants and to step into the beauty of a silver singing river rather than stay stuck in a frozen stream.
As we stepped out into an evening now black as night I smiled as I heard vague traces of our younger selves echoing on the breeze. I turned to look at my husband and saw both glimpses of the past and the promise of a future beckoning us together hand in hand over the blue horizon into the days of tomorrow.
