Those of you have read some of my earlier blogs will know that I have two very dear sisters. One lives in London, UK and one in Los Angeles, California. We keep in touch by phone and of course, emails. Emails are always addressed to both sisters on the other side of the world.
Phone calls are rather more rare but it is great to hear their voices. Recently after
several many futile phone attempts I connected with my American sister.
We of course, discussed many things but we always without fail, discuss books we have read and those we hope to read. Because at that time, I had just finished reading Stephen King’s 11/22/63 I was full of this book. Others have written great reviews of it so I wont do so here. Maybe an idea for another blog?
My sister is a prolific reader and she shared several of her favourite authors and books she had read with me.
She is apparently very fond of Nicola Upson’s series about detective Jacqueline Tey. She quoted one of her favourite poem’s which came from the book “To Love and Be Wise.
“My lot is cast in inland places,
Far from sounding beach
and crying gull,
who knew the sea’s voice from my babyhood
Must listen to a river purling
Through green fields
And small birds gossiping
Among the leaves”.
I don’t live in inland places – the ocean is about 10 minutes drive away, but I miss the sights and sounds of the ocean that I used to see from all the windows of my home. It seemed that we were surrounded by the sea and it’s activities. For 15 years we lived in that house. The children spent their teenage years there and we became almost immune to the fantastic views from most windows. We could see not only the ocean with all its comings and goings (cruise ships, ferries, barges and tugs for the port) but the planes landing at the airport, and the trains bringing people and goods into our capital city. So maybe this post should be headed “Trains and Boats and Planes”.
And as in this poem, now I don’t hear the crying gull when I awaken in the morning but I do hear the small birds gossiping among the leaves. I love the thought of the birds gossiping.
I hear the sounds of busy families getting ready for their day – households waking up, newspapers being brought in, children going to school and parents to work. The road outside my house is alive with activity for a short time each morning and then, as if a switch has been pulled, the peace descends and only those of us who are no longer living the busy years are left behind.
We have time for another leisurely cup of coffee; time to exchange pleasantries with our neighbours as we retrieve the newspaper from the drive; time to read the newspaper, complete the crossword and as I am getting older, I peruse the death notices just in case there is somebody I know mentioned there.
And so –
My lot is cast
In different places
Not beside the river or the ocean
But in the city with its life and vitality.
Not in the distant years of my youth
Nor the busy years of family life
But the peaceful years of time for me
To enjoy friends and family.
Time to investigate new things
New activities and new friends
Time to be me.