Bless these skinny little legs. I always thought of myself as a man with a big upper body and little sticks for legs. Almost like a cartoon character! The older I get, however, the more appreciative I am of my slender gams. I thank my lucky stars, physical therapists, chiropractors, and others who have assisted me through my running streak. There have been no shin splints, fractures, knee problems, or ACL issues. I’ve been fortunate that they’ve kept me moving forward.
Today truly felt like the end of the week. Despite being retired for 5 full months now, I still have a sense for the days of the week. Trash containers were out in the adjoining neighborhoods this morning, so I knew it was “Friday.” Since every day is the same now, I’ve stopped identifying the days of the week in the traditional manner. I don’t know if I ever want to loose that “Friday Feeling.” It was always my favorite, especially when it led to a three-day weekend. Some people feel that in retirement every day should be a Saturday. For me, when Saturday arrived, it was already half-way through the weekend, so I will always try to hold on to that special Friday high.
I woke up last night with a severe headache. despite not having a single glass of wine. The jet-lag really hit hard about 2 a.m., but I was able to get back to sleep after guzzling some water. I feel pretty good this morning, Since, in retirement language, it’s “Lunch Day,” I plan to get together with some former co-workers for some wings and maybe a beer. Having some “my time” yesterday was really much needed after a dozen days of constant companionship. I’m also enjoying this morning’s solitude, having sent the working wife off to the salt mines.
I’m thankful for our seventeen years together as a couple. While we were cruising down the Seine River, I wrote this special poem for her to celebrate our love. Every once in a while my poetry gets a little mushy – don’t worry it won’t happen too often:
Amour
.
Eiffel Tower sunset,
Twinkling lights.
It was the first,
Of romantic Paris nights.
.
Monet and Macaroon,
Bottle of Sancerre.
Another Paris Memory,
We’ll forever share.
.
Lost in the Louvre,
And on the Metro, too.
But, Time after time,
We whispered , “I Love You.”
.
Surrounded by Stained Glass,
Those magic words we’d say.
Three-star dining,
Or a late night café.
.
Hand- in- hand,
We’d slowly walk.
Feeling love,
With little talk.
.
Like underneath the Arch,
The heights of Sacre-Coeur.
And Moulin Rouge memories,
Our love will long endure.
.
Thoughts of water lilies,
Or fountains at Versailles.
And castles built with stone,
No love has stronger ties.
.
Up and down the Seine,
Or high atop a chateau.
These are the words,
I’d want you to know.
.
Drifting down the river,
History on each side.
Spending time together,
Love our favorite guide
.
On a sandy beach,
Where lives had been lost.
There’s nothing more precious,
Lost love the greatest cost.
.
And when we’re not alone,
Friends are at our side.
But there’s nothing finer,
Than being with my bride.
.
It’s “amour” in French,
A more romantic sound.
And strongly felt in Paris,
Where signs of love abound.
copyright 2017 johnstonwrites.com
Love you too!