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| One of several summer gatherings under our pergola |
I said “Sure” when Mary Ellen called Monday morning and asked if I was free to kayak Thursday at 9:30 a.m. with another friend. We never made it on Lakeville Lake and to lunch last year, so we hankered for the companionship.
That night at writing group, Elaine asked, “Are you available for company late Wednesday morning?” She had family coming in from Chicago and D.C. who’d never visited my place.
With writing projects, I wouldn’t have time to deadhead my gardens and dust the house. Yet, I adore Elaine’s offspring.
I postponed business, swallowed my pride, and said “Sure.”
Blessed with the finest August morning Michigan can muster, I served what the garden gave us under the pergola— Elaine’s favorite haven on our three acres.
Enzo, not yet two and a former guest, walked downhill to the hen house with his beribboned walking stick and older cousin.
With Elaine’s son in the mix, my husband joined us for scones, cucumber-tomato salad, and lemon lavender ice cream.
“Rain,” Enzo said, dropping hands full of the pergola’s pea gravel to the ground.
How wonderful to have a child in our midst, the third of three generations gathered around our summer table.
How doubly marvelous to hear Anthony, second-generation patriarch, and his wife speak of resident life in D.C.
“Next time you’re in town, please be our guests,” they said.
It is a divine gift to hug folk good-bye who would rather linger.
The following morning, my kayak trio launched as planned, albeit breezy. My two friends glided before me, paddling and resting as I rowed behind without pause.
They stopped for me to catch up for our return to dock.
“Mary Ellen, can you tow me in? Even though I’m rowing constantly, I can’t keep up with you two.”
“Sure.”
A woman who would rather have her feet on the ground than in or on the water, I was glad to touch shore.
The three of us lunched for two hours at the Celtic Knot. We disclosed we had wavered to give ourselves the morning off to spend with each other.
“This is the advantage of our age. We can choose what we most enjoy,” we all agreed.
I awoke Friday morning to a repeat of Wednesday’s blissful weather and menu for Debra’s annual visit under the pergola. This year, however, her granddaughter Olivia stood before Debra on the front porch.
“Good morning, Iris,” Olivia said in her two-and-a-half year old voice.
Oh my goodness. Two darlings in one week.
When Olivia saw the swing she said, “Will you swing me?”
“Sure,” Debra said.
“No, Iris.”
“Sure,” I said.
Olivia swung “way high” with the wind on her face. She swung on her tummy and found a lightning bug in the grass.
She played with the pea gravel.
Of all amazing things, she made a mustache of her melted ice cream that dripped from her chin.
“Ummm,” Olivia sang with closed eyes.
“Ummm,” dear Reader. Three mornings off with friends. Two under the pergola with Enzo and Olivia.
