A break in the clouds

I haven’t written a blog for two weeks now. I’ve been a little on the blue side – maybe having to do with turning 65 and the approach of winter (in so many ways), a sickly dog, working hard. But last weekend came a break in the clouds. It was the annual get-together of Rick’s childhood and high school friends, who call themselves the Loons – hence, a “reloonion.” Most people there were in their 60s, with a couple in their 50s. One is on crutches after almost having died from an infection, and a hospital’s mistake, last year. Another was recuperating from a hip replacement. Another walks with pain from chronic neuropathy in her feet. But there were two notable exceptions – Nuala, who’s maybe 4, and her sister, Fiona, 13 months, the only kids present. They are the children of one of the Loons – a man also in his 60s – who met a woman at church after the end of his unhappy marriage, fell in love, remarried and sired these gorgeous girls. I spent part of Sunday with Fiona in my arms, entertaining her while her parents finished eating breakfast at the restaurant where we’d all met for a farewell meal. I walked her around, bouncing her in my arms, and watched her big blue eyes while I showed her pictures on the wall, lights on the ceiling, plants hanging from baskets – pretty mundane stuff. But to her they were sources of great wonder. I think wonder is something I need more of in my life, especially as I get older. Maybe we all do. “Always be on the lookout for the presence of wonder,” E. B. White wrote, in a quote Rick has taped to our bathroom mirror. Last Sunday, I encountered it. I plan to keep looking for more.