June 27, 2003 was a beautiful day at Ponte Vedra Beach with a
perfectly perfect high of 87 degrees, sparkly, sunny crystal blue skies, low humidity and
a bit of a breeze. William, Annabelle
and I were in happy residence, enjoying some welcome beach time in a lovely condo. Charlie, William’s sidekick and best friend from Atlanta, was hanging with us there, a delightful guest who was as good-natured as he was adorable. William and Charlie were all of seven years old, and Annabelle
was a precious five.
We launched our day at the Lodge pool next door, beautiful and expansive with plentiful umbrella-shaded chairs just right for the relaxation I had in mind. The kids were glad to spend their morning diving for pennies and multi-colored weighted torpedoes while I kept one eye on them and blissfully paged through magazines using the other one. Lunch was served beachside on the
hotel patio where ocean-watching (for the kids) and beach-people-watching (for me)
were in bountiful and rewarding supply. Afterwards we moved on to early-afternoon rest time featuring a matinee of the
cartoon movie “Robin Hood” (hands down the rented condo’s most thoughtful amenity), and I escaped to snag a teeny tiny scrap of beauty rest.
Late afternoon found us out on the beach searching for shark’s
teeth and perfect pink “lucky day” seashells (because if you spotted one in the sand, it was just that). Amazingly successful at coming up with both kinds of Atlantic Ocean treasure, William, Annabelle and Charlie eventually ditched me for the lure of playing in the waves before we landed back in the condo for quick showers and heading into Jacksonville
for the minor league Suns evening game.
We got to the ballpark early and, armed with little wooden Suns souvenir baseball bats, William, Annabelle and Charlie dived into the pack of kids visiting with the Jacksonville players and collected
Sharpie signatures. They were
particularly in awe of the Suns affable shortstop--and I am not sure if the draw was his charm or his captivating name--Gookie Dawkins.
On the perfect evening for baseball, soft serve in little upside down blue plastic Suns baseball caps hit the spot while the aroma of Bubba Burgers cooking on a big charcoal grill drifted enticingly through the stadium. Great seats under the starry blue velvet sky gave us a fine view of inning interludes like the chicken dance and hat game, as well as for watching the Suns beat the Birmingham Barons, 2-1. Every Gookie at-bat, catch, throw, move, genuflection and nuance was enthusiastically supported by my three companions who had claimed him for their very own since they made his pre-game acquaintance.
Because it was Friday, we really hit the jackpot with the game wrapping up in a
fireworks show. The four of us sat way back in our seats with faces upturned as pyrotechnic bursts of color--pink, silver, blue, and red--lit up the clear Jacksonville night sky, time and again, each one more beautiful and spectacular than the last. As I sat there watching cascading pieces of glitter falling to earth, tired but content after
what could only be called the most perfect day ever, little Charlie turned to me and said, “Could
we come back here next year and do this exact same day all over again?”
I promised Charlie yes, but I knew in my head it would be kind of unlikely that all the stars would align just perfectly again in one year's time. However, the looking forward to a carbon copy of the best day ever gave us something to discuss in the Bug on the way back to the beach, and made for sweet dreams that night.
Almost ten years have flown by since that day at the beach and ballpark, and it is kind of remarkable how that particular day out of all the many others that have come and gone has stuck with us, a prototype for the perfect summer vacation day--or, for that matter, the perfect any kind of day. The splendid fusion of pool-beach-baseball-fireworks is forever enshrined in our memory hall of fame. William and Annabelle still readily remember Gookie and can recite the renowned Charlie quote on demand because we have reminisced about that day many times since.
The funny thing is that day was not carefully planned out, plotted or orchestrated with any attention to detail at all. It simply evolved, one idea about something fun to do segueing into the next, in the end a nice surprise of a day complete with a fireworks happy ending, just like in the movies. With the exception of a Gookie Dawkins foul ball landing squarely in the middle of one of the boys' baseball gloves, we could not have asked for anything more that would have made it better.
These days I find myself spending a great deal of time contemplating hopes about what might lie ahead, and all the things I would like to see happen for my loved ones and me. I was out walking one evening last week, as always reviewing this rather lengthy running list of items about which I pray for the future, the future, the future. And it just occurred to me that I could be so interested in tomorrow, I might just overlook this day and the here and now. Last week I got a feeling that each day I am already kind of standing somewhere in tomorrow-land, the esoteric place of promise that often occupies my thoughts.
So I am thinking the best thing to do is to make a big effort to really enjoy and appreciate what is going on in this day--whether that involves shark's teeth, soft serve and fireworks or not--all the while looking forward to the excellent possibilities that tomorrow holds. I should do my best work today and take advantage of every opportunity that presents itself--then let life unfold with all its nuances, sweet spots and surprises that lie just down the road. And just like on that special summer day so long ago, welcome the really good stuff that comes along unplanned, unexpected and unplotted.
I did go back to Ponte Vedra last summer and, even though it was the middle of July, the weather was amazing with highs in the mid-eighties, low humidity and a bit of a breeze. Just like the images I had carried around in my head for quite a few years, most everything there was the same beautiful or even better. It was a picture perfect few days in most every way, though I did find myself often looking around for the smaller versions of William and Annabelle playing on the beach. While the appeal of searching for shark's teeth just wasn't the same without the kids, I was pleased to find two pretty pink lucky day shells waiting for me to come along, perfectly placed in the sand just beside my chair on the beach, on my birthday.
I have decided that every day is a lucky day.
~~~~~
The funny thing is that day was not carefully planned out, plotted or orchestrated with any attention to detail at all. It simply evolved, one idea about something fun to do segueing into the next, in the end a nice surprise of a day complete with a fireworks happy ending, just like in the movies. With the exception of a Gookie Dawkins foul ball landing squarely in the middle of one of the boys' baseball gloves, we could not have asked for anything more that would have made it better.
These days I find myself spending a great deal of time contemplating hopes about what might lie ahead, and all the things I would like to see happen for my loved ones and me. I was out walking one evening last week, as always reviewing this rather lengthy running list of items about which I pray for the future, the future, the future. And it just occurred to me that I could be so interested in tomorrow, I might just overlook this day and the here and now. Last week I got a feeling that each day I am already kind of standing somewhere in tomorrow-land, the esoteric place of promise that often occupies my thoughts.
So I am thinking the best thing to do is to make a big effort to really enjoy and appreciate what is going on in this day--whether that involves shark's teeth, soft serve and fireworks or not--all the while looking forward to the excellent possibilities that tomorrow holds. I should do my best work today and take advantage of every opportunity that presents itself--then let life unfold with all its nuances, sweet spots and surprises that lie just down the road. And just like on that special summer day so long ago, welcome the really good stuff that comes along unplanned, unexpected and unplotted.
I did go back to Ponte Vedra last summer and, even though it was the middle of July, the weather was amazing with highs in the mid-eighties, low humidity and a bit of a breeze. Just like the images I had carried around in my head for quite a few years, most everything there was the same beautiful or even better. It was a picture perfect few days in most every way, though I did find myself often looking around for the smaller versions of William and Annabelle playing on the beach. While the appeal of searching for shark's teeth just wasn't the same without the kids, I was pleased to find two pretty pink lucky day shells waiting for me to come along, perfectly placed in the sand just beside my chair on the beach, on my birthday.
I have decided that every day is a lucky day.
