Part 4: The Voice Over the Waters

Chapter 1: Mother's Day

"The world is fairly studded and strewn with pennies cast broadside from a generous hand. But—and this is the point—who gets excited by a mere penny? If you follow one arrow, if you crouch motionless on a bank to watch a tremulous ripple thrill on the water and are rewarded by the sight of a muskrat kit paddling from its den, will you count that sight a chip of copper only, and go your rueful way? It is a dire poverty indeed when a man is so malnourished and fatigued that he won't stoop to pick up a penny. But if you cultivate a healthy poverty and simplicity, so that finding a penny will literally make your day, then, since the world is in fact planted in pennies, you have with your poverty bought a lifetime of days. It is that simple. What you see is what you get." Annie Dillard. Pilgrim at Tinker Creek, Harper Magazine, 1974.

Photo by Elijah Mears on Unsplash

Sunday, May 10, 2020
       I'm speechless about what has just transpired this Mother’s Day. Steve and Matthew Hopkins and Charlie Young and a few other husbands created a spa day experience for their wives. They used Beatrice’s backyard, which overlooks the city up on Beverly Hills Drive. She has a deck with a pool, hot tub, bar, brazier, and BBQ. Relaxing music played over the outdoor speakers that were mounted on a pergola hung with twinkly lights. 
	Each husband set up a lounger for his wife with a towel and basket of treats. They spaced the loungers six feet apart and set up a sanitation station on one side. Those of us who weren’t worried about the six-foot rule ended up shifting our loungers closer and ignoring the sanitation station altogether.
	My basket of treats included a thermos of Irish breakfast tea, stroopwafle cookies, salami, cheese, crackers, Scandinavian swimmers, a one-pound-bar of Trader Joe’s dark chocolate, and a glass jar of creamer wrapped in an icepack. There was also a new leather journal, a bottle of grapefruit fizzy water, and cute notes from Opal and Theo. Opal tried to write me a poem while Theo drew me a picture of a . . . cow? I can’t tell what it is.
	Am delighted to see my gals’ group in person. Haven’t seen them in months. Lucy, unfortunately, is not here because she is not a mother. Auntie Bev is also not here because nephew Gilbert decided it was too big of a crowd for an elderly lady. There are nine ladies in total here, and some faces that I haven’t seen in ages. Only one person wears a mask, and we take turns going into the spa in twos. There’s a nail painting table and a foot bath beside a lounger draped in fluffy white towels.