Days sans Petanque

Subject: Days sans Petanque

Date: April 10, 2020 at 4:29:56 AM PDT



I suppose it is a lesson in the transient nature of happiness. Those languid afternoons. The early bunch: Joe, Dave, Ed, Bill., Lynda. Sometimes Debbie and Maggie. More recently Mark and Sondra. Between the early bunch and the beer bunch, I'd wander in through the trees, usually number seven, waiting for Kevin or Marco to fill out another game. Adair comes through the trees about the same timi do. Around five or so, Lanter would show up with a backpack packed, then, if he wasn't at sea, Wolfie would bicycle down the path, followed shortly by Peter with two cold ones in the basket. Whenever they could make it Michelle and Kristen would saunter in with a bottle of bubbly.  Tim, Rob and Stevie D round out the bicycle gang. Peter Wellington, actually I don't know when or how he arrives. He's just suddenly there as if he was beamed down from the mothership. Thanks mom.

Eventually Jack, Hans, Jean-Michel, Higgins and more recently Barry an Casey, and some of the Petaluma contingent would make a big splash part of the reorganizing team spread. Play would continue until dark or other commitments would thin out play. Hand shakes and hugs would send us home with the feeling that the world was not such a bad place to live.

Now, who knows what lies ahead. Usually things settle down and return to what we called normal but this time I'm not so sure. It seems the gap between crisis grows shorter with each event.

I don't know what the future holds for us but I can tell you this much, I never took a single one of those days for granted, and I thank my lucky stars for every hour we've shared.

A conversation between myself and thin air

Bout how there was nothing and then you were there

Then quick as a wink

Or quicker I think 

You were taken away, that doesn't seem fair

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And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance
I hope you dance

—"I Hope You Dance" by Lee Ann Womack