Here's a picture of my day.
A walk around Colchester at noon. Pub lunch wherein we sat at a tiny table tucked away right at the very back, invisible to almost everyone. Good, wholesome babies-about-town, we ate fish and chips, lots of salad and downed big pint glases of orange juice. Very healthful all around. Wilkinsons next, where Bryan Adams was crooning something or the other about nights to remember, and where we bitched about everything in the home/furnishings department. Nesting season approaches, it's just around the corner of the next birthday, I can feel it. Yikes. Then a walk down the back path and a sharp turn into the park. Two firsts:
Instead of just waltzing through, we sat on a bench. And we saw, we saw:
- Seagulls whirling above the walls of the castle
- A starling, singing it's heart out on the weather vane
- Packs of 13 year olds. Apparently this is the hangout de jour. And apparently it is de jour to either couple up (tightly) or hide your head in shame. All of them, shiny happy people in love, all over each other. Poor sweethearts. I wanted to warn them. Lucky kids! I think I am constatly trying to return to that 13-year-old-love feeling myself.
- Squirrels. Up close and personal. They took nuts out of Mark's hands. I will always remember this: The boy looked like a blushing-cheeked wood spirite in the sun. He was croutching on the side of the path, holding out almonds and pecans and walnuts and hazelnuts and they were taking them out of his hand. I tried it too but got scared at the last minute. They made me wait for ages before getting up the nerve to approach me. They just ran up to him and took the nuts out of his fingers. People were stopping to watch. My pink cheeked woodsprite in the sun, feeding squirrels. The only thing that prevents it from being nauseating is: I saw it.
A day for tiny joys, billowing up against each other, the kind that send you to sleep with a soul strained full of smiles.
Thank you, universe.