Last week, taking advantage of one of my unemployment periods, my wife and I went to the beach midweek. It was a long time that I hadn't had holidays in September and I had also forgotten that sensation. I have to recognize that it's very nice to feel that while everybody is working one is lying on the beach reading a book, letting your mind fly listening to the sound of the waves crashing into the shore.
One of those days, there was something that caught my attention. In the time I was turning over a page of my book I could see an old woman, sitting only twenty metres from me, wearing a cap. I am positive that that woman was in her late eighties. She was thin and wore a stick, which helped her to walk to the shore and feel the fresh and salty water in her feet and I thought 'how much lonely she must feel'.
At first I felt sorry for her but, once I thought it twice, I told myself 'She must feel herself the happiest woman on the Earth'. The only feeling of the wet sand on her feet made her happy and I could see it in the gestures she made each time she bent down to touch the water and rubbed her wrinkled face with her wet hands.
I could see myself at that age, sat in that chair, looking at the never-ending sea. How could I feel lonely with my best friend looking at me, telling me he would be always there until the end of my life?
Tears drop down my face, but they are not tears of sadness..........
One of those days, there was something that caught my attention. In the time I was turning over a page of my book I could see an old woman, sitting only twenty metres from me, wearing a cap. I am positive that that woman was in her late eighties. She was thin and wore a stick, which helped her to walk to the shore and feel the fresh and salty water in her feet and I thought 'how much lonely she must feel'.
At first I felt sorry for her but, once I thought it twice, I told myself 'She must feel herself the happiest woman on the Earth'. The only feeling of the wet sand on her feet made her happy and I could see it in the gestures she made each time she bent down to touch the water and rubbed her wrinkled face with her wet hands.
I could see myself at that age, sat in that chair, looking at the never-ending sea. How could I feel lonely with my best friend looking at me, telling me he would be always there until the end of my life?
Tears drop down my face, but they are not tears of sadness..........
Last week, taking advantage of one of my unemployment periods, my wife and I went to the beach midweek. It HAD BEEN a long time SINCE I haD had holidays in September and I had also forgotten that sensation. I have to recognize that it's very nice to feel that, while everybody ELSE is working, one is lying on the beach reading a book, letting ONE'S mind fly, listening to the sound of the waves crashing into the shore.
ReplyDeleteOne of those days, there was something that caught my attention. In the time I was turning over a page of my book I SAW an old woman, sitting only twenty metres from me, wearing a cap. I am positive that that woman was in her late eighties. She was thin and CARRIED a stick, which helped her to walk to the shore and feel the COOL* and salty water On her feet and I thought 'how [] lonely she must feel'.
At first I felt sorry for her but, once I thought ABOUT it twice, I told myself 'She must feel LIKE the happiest woman on the Earth'. The SIMPLE feeL of the wet sand on her feet made her happy and I could see it in the gestures she made each time she bent down to touch the water and rubbed her wrinkled face with her wet hands.**
I could see myself at that age, SITTING in that chair, looking at the never-ending sea. How could I feel lonely with my best friend looking at me, telling me he would be always there until the end of my life?
Tears drop down my face, but they are not tears of sadness..........
*"fresh" means "not salty" in this context
**beautiful image, well expressed. You let her actions show me how she felt.
Forgetting about English for a moment, this is a lovely blog entry. I thank you for it.
Thank you for your comments Matt. You make me happy too
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