At my age I should know a few things. I do, but not enough to always be wise or to be certain. There are still choices to be made, pros and cons to be weighed, adjustment to and acceptance of whichever choice is made. Life is still a learning process.
The wind picks up. We sit closer, wrap a blanket across our shoulders. Enough hot coffee in the thermos for a half cup each. His hand finds mine. I keep my eyes looking ahead to the horizon where ocean meets sky. Pink, rose, mauve, peach. Mustn't blink or turn away. Mustn't look into his eyes; I'll miss the sunset. I'll miss what we came for. Mustn't…
My deck is my transport. It awaits my boarding, weather permitting. Comfortable seating, in sun or shade, my choice. Snacks or full meals can be provided. Reading material is always provided, as well as pen and paper should I choose to read or write. Should I wish, I may watch the screen before me, the cranberry red Japanese maple trees and dark green, pink flowering bushes behind them, the containers of potted plants with their ochre, white and salmon colored blossoms. This show is accompanied by stereophonic sound. Various bird calls, soughing breezes, rustling leaves, gurgling water from the brook just beyond the trees encircle me, wrapping me in warm, comforting arms, and I am airborne to the destination of my choice.
The blue Aegean and white sands of Naxos, the slopes at Chamonix, a glaring white under the winter sun, the strong odors and raucous calls of vendors in the Grand Suk in Dubai, the plaintive Fado coming from a lone singer in an alley. Visions of memories and new, imaginative ones. I am in control. I am the pilot for this journey.