Wednesday morning my daughter got up and said "you know where I want to have breakfast this morning?" "Where?" we inquired idly, already eating muffins and cereal at a leisurely pace, since it was another snow day and no one was going anywhere. She named an open-air restaurant overlooking the Atlantic near Charleston, South Carolina where we like to go for vacation. "Oh yeah," we all breathed.
And somehow that breathed a little happiness into the whole day. Because four months from tomorrow, we plan to have lunch at that restaurant, breathing the warm salt air.
It put me in the mood to give you this poem by Wendy Cope, which I discovered in the continuing process of looking for one to read out loud.
The Orange
At lunchtime I bought a huge orange--
The size of it made us all laugh.
I peeled it and shared it with Robert and Dave--
They got quarters and I had a half.
And that orange, it made me so happy,
As ordinary things often do
Just lately. The shopping. A walk in the park.
This is peace and contentment. It's new.
The rest of the day was quite easy.
I did all the jobs on my list
And enjoyed them and had some time over.
I love you. I'm glad I exist.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
10 comments:
Charleston is a nice town. My family used to go there (though not as often as Myrtle Beach) in the summer when we lived in South Carolina (up until I was 10 yrs old).
That poem is just lovely. It made me smile; thank you for posting it.
You must tell us the name of the restaurant
--someone who used to annually go to Charleston too
Another poem I've loved for years!
Oooo a poem I actually like :-) You're expanding my horizons, missy.
I've been to Charleston once. I loved it - esp the ghost walk and the pirate history.
We are in beach fever right now...counting the weeks until we go. Five months....tick, tick, tick.
Teena, I have revealed the name of the restaurant privately to you...I don't want the island we frequent to get any more overcrowded, at least not on account of me!
Freshhell, we have a good story about a lady who parked in a handicapped space on "our" island without the tag, and when we asked why she'd parked there, she told us that she had to because her hair was on fire.
The next day we took the pirate tour, and when the guide told us how Blackbeard used to put firecrackers in his beard to look fierce, Eleanor said to us sotto voce "guess he wanted to park in the handicapped spot!"
Yay Wendy Cope's poems make every day a little brighter.
You've got me curious about the restaurant! I love Charleston.
Post a Comment