"Fran are you there? I have an emergency." It's my friend Judi, who lives downstairs from me. She usually emails her messages on the Apple computer she has learned to use like a youthful expert, signing off "Judi down under" or "Judi below," or something similar.
"I've run out of wine."
"Well so have I," I yell down. "Real emergency, Judi!" We laugh.
We are birds of a feather, with many similar interests and tastes, including wine. Our feathers are mostly white too. Oh, we have our differences, but they are a treat!
Warning, a poem by Jenny Joseph
When I am an old woman I shall wear purple
With a red hat which doesn't go, and doesn't suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
And satin sandals, and say we've no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I'm tired
And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
And run my stick along the public railings
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
And pick flowers in other people's gardens
And learn to spit.
From Mary Oliver:
“When it's over, I want to say: all my life
I was a bride married to amazement.
I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.
When it is over, I don't want to wonder
if I have made of my life something particular, and real.
I don't want to find myself sighing and frightened,
or full of argument.
I don't want to end up simply having visited this world.”
― Mary Oliver