The Mediterranean glistened as if the stars at dawn decided not to fade away and descended to the top of the water to play from Argelès to Africa. As I lay on my beach towel, the sun leaching the cold winter from my bones, I thought of something someone said at Tim Russert’s service: He woke every day as if he had just won the lottery.
That was how I felt as I arranged this day, a trip to the beach to pick up a DVD and a chance to relax. My Geneva housemate and I were talking about our lives via email, happy that our respective children are all in various states of contentment with the things they are doing, our friends enrich us, we do so much that we love.
My big decisions today were
1. Whether to have a magret de canard brochette or a gambas brochette at Komodo, a restaurant next to the beach. The canard won, and it came with satay, aioli, Indian and yoghurt and chive sauces to dip. I ate under the canopy with the pine grove between me and the water.
2. Take a siesta or a shower first when I got home. The siesta won.
Now I am getting down to my writing, both my newsletter and novel, some of the words mapped out on the walk to the beach.
I feel as if I just won the lottery too, almost every day when I get out of bed, not the lottery that pays money, the lottery of living well and happily and loving everything around me.