Day 247

Pretty old cat on her excursion outside today, in which she walked with a confident if somewhat wobbly gait, down the stairs of the deck, and a little way into the forest.  She lay in the dappled shade of a tree for a while, feasting on the warm sun, then on her way back to the house, had a dabble in rain-water collected in a plant container, testing it first with one paw, then the other, fascinated by it.  Sweet old Lily-cat, ancient life-force, many more than nine lives, this one.

I persuaded my husband to come to the beach with me to experience the wonderful waves Hurricane Earl had churned up.  He has not been much and has a naturally white skin, so I covered him in sun-cream.  It is an extraordinarily intimate thing to do for someone, it is a knowledge of that body, like mothers with their little children, or with partners, mimicking what one usually does in a more private setting.  (He just showed me his tummy which has an enormous red burnt patch around his belly-button, so I wasn't as knowledgeable as I thought!)

We are in the latter part of middle age now, the two of us,  and as I rubbed the cream into his skin I felt a certain tenderness for this man, and for this body which I have watched and loved over many years.  So much about men confounds me, their love of violent movies, their lifelong fascination with naked women, their inability to find something in the kitchen cupboard, their consistent need to hide emotion, to name but a few.  And I know the same holds true for men about women.   But on good days, like today, it is important to remember how much we have gone through together, how we have held one another in rough times, and pulled one another along by the hand into happiness at other times.  How we laugh together, what good friends we are.

Once, when we were much younger, Tim jumped up out of bed one night, stark naked of course, switched on the light, and proceeded to dance about the bedroom, leaping and prancing, up on to the bed, down on to the floor, just about climbing the walls, with a rolled-up newspaper in his hand, trying to kill a pesky mosquito! (South African mosquitoes are loud) I lay in the bouncing bed and laughed and laughed.  When the boys were about eight I told them the story one day, and Nick reflected on it, saying, "You're so lucky, mom, to have a husband that makes you laugh.  I hope my wife laughs at me like that one day!"

In the churned up sea of huge waves this morning, there appeared next to me a couple who must have been in their late sixties or early seventies.  They both had white white hair (although that says nothing, under the henna my hair is white too!)  He was standing knee-deep in the water taking photographs of the enormous waves and his wife enjoying them.  She chided him, asking him to come in with her.  I loved watching her energy and enthusiasm and we chatted a bit, she was so friendly and sweet and utterly delighted with the water!  She was having a wonderful time, falling backwards into the waves, going under the particularly gigantic ones, and coming up shrieking with laughter, for all the world like a little girl!  He went out to put away his camera, and remove his hat and glasses, then joined her in the waves and next minute he had swept her off her feet and was carrying her along, both laughing uproariously!  I made a date with Tim in 15 years time, when I am 70 and he is 66, to still be swimming in the waves together!

Self-portrait for today.