'Pleasures of an Ordinary Life'

Today is an ordinary day, 30th March 2015.

I am reading my letter of 30th March 1987, it was an ordinary day.

So many years, so much life between then and now.

The 30 of March in Paris.

The clocks have been set to summer time and the littley's are sleeping in late.

Barry is standing up, using our coffee table for support. And he is starting to crawl too.

Fred is travelling. To Germany and to the USA.

I forgot my parents anniversary.

I buy a gift for Fred's birthday.

And I am doing admin.

I am learning French.

I am interested in my parents adventures as Mayor and Mayoress of Howick.

I tease my sister Doreen.

I am organising photos for the family.

I am writing letters.

The 30 of March in Johannesburg.

I am up early.

Fred and I walk to my pilates studio and I take my regular friday class.

I am doing admin.

My quilt group meets today and I am excited to start on a new quilt, the small 2 inch squares are cut and ready for final design input from the girls.

I am getting a few things organised for our trip to the Loft for Easter.

I am reading, looking at photos and writing.

Barry learning to stand using our coffee table.

How I love these ordinary days.

 Pleasures of an Ordinary Life

I've had my share of necessary losses,

Of dreams I know no longer can come true.

I'm done now with the whys and the becauses.

It's time to make things good, not just make do.

It's time to stop complaining and pursue

The pleasures of an ordinary life.

I used to rail against my compromises.

I yearned for the wild music, the swift race.

But happiness arrived in new disguises:

Sun lighting a child's hair. A friend's embrace.

Slow dancing in a safe and quiet place.

The pleasures of an ordinary life.

I'll have no trumpets, triumphs, trails of glory.

It seems the woman I've turned out to be

Is not the heroine of some grand story.

But I have learned to find the poetry

In what my hands can touch, my eyes can see.

The pleasures of an ordinary life.

Young fantasies of magic and of mystery

Are over. But they really can't compete

With all we've built together: A long history.

Connections that help render us complete.

Ties that hold and heal us. And the sweet,

Sweet pleasures of an ordinary life. 

Judith Viorst