It was epic, even if the events of the day swept over me and meant I never left the property at Big Pink. It was worth it. Epic.

Among he other things that happened while I wasn’t looking in the course of the day, I think I won the Front Page bar pool on the Belmont Stakes, which I forgot to watch. I got a note from a dear pal who was out camping with his daughters, though he declined to spend the night in the Great Outdoors. It was so evocative of years and places past. I really enjoyed his camping vignette. My goodness, we have all slept in some strange places in our times, and the determination of his young ladies to rest in the wild is part of the mosaic of life they will carry forever.

I woke in a field in Norway on MidSummer’s Eve one time a half century ago to see a fox gnawing on the red hair of a woman sleeping near me. Or she was sleeping briefly, better said. The subsequent shrieking made for an earlier morning than we had anticipated, though when the sun comes up at 0300 I suppose that is to be expected.

Along the way to waking this particular morning when at long last there is no denying that I really am who I am, I also came to the realization that I over-stressed something in my bad leg with the big swim yesterday. I hate falling down, and this was no help. Still, it is important to keep calm and carry on, right?

I traversed the living room and was pleased I had locked the front door. I unlocked it and popped my head out of the burrow and realized I hosted a party on the patio last night. I walked out onto the patio to take a look, not knowing what I might find.

Predictable wreckage, and I had neglected to bring it in before retiring.

One of the jetsam items left behind with the bag of sodden chips and a suspect bowl of mostly consumed onion dip was a Mylar balloon, shiny and wishing the recipient a happy birthday. It was from Margaret, the most thoughtful lady I know.

It was still valiantly straining to take to the sky, weighed down by a plastic clip in the mulch next to the patio table. I took the weight off the tether and walked out to the parking lot to avoid the overhanging trees, and set it free. I saw the beginning of the ascent but wound up talking to a still-tethered thirteen-year-old dog, who apparently felt precisely the way I did.

I normally don’t litter, but I wonder who will wind up with it, thinking it is trash? They will never know the feeling of liberation I feel today.

– Vic

Copyright 2017 Vic Socotra
www.vicsocotra.com