Spending a few days with my parents for my brother’s wedding was a stark reminder of how important it is to live in the here and now.
My parents have spent most of their lives living for the future, always sacrificing the present. But the future they’ve always focused on is proving hard for them to hang onto. Although they have the house built of logs that they wanted and live in mountains like they’ve always wanted, health issues stalk them and retirement isn’t the cake walk they assumed it would be. So, there’s sadness and frustration and bitterness entering into the picture. It’s very hard to be around. I’m all sandpaper and sharp edges when I’m around them. Yet at the same time I hurt for them. It’s hard.
I cannot change what my parents choose, only what I choose. Today, I choose to noodle about the lovely day we spent at the Gorge d’Heric a couple weeks ago.
Swimming hole at the Gorge d
We’d been to the gorge before for a long walk. The river that cuts through the gorge is broken up with loads of lovely mineral hued pools, perfect for swimming. The water is so clear, and it’s not as cold as I had assumed it would be. We decided to go there for an afternoon of picnicing and swimming, only I couldn’t swim – only stand in the water – as at the time as I had conjunctivitis. ( Eye doctor’s orders.)
I spent half my time standing in the water, as deep as I could go and not get my shorts wet. Tim said I should just put on my suit anyway, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to resist the temptation to immerse myself if I put on my gear. So, I just enjoyed watching the little fish nibble on my toes. The only reason I’m OK with my feet being in this picture is that the water hides that they’re in desperate need of a pedi. Tim mentioned that spas in the states now use fish in their pedicure treatments. The fish ever so gently gnaw off the dead skin. The man who has never had a pedicure in his life, who thinks that pedicures and spa treatments are a scandalous indulgence, was telling me (the person who’s had to listen to him rant and rave about how people should save their money and not spend it on scandalous indulgences) about the latest trend in pedicures. Go figure.
To the fish, apparently, my toes are tasty. Ew
We had to share our swimming hole spot, but for the most part our neighbors were no problem, respectful even of nappers…that was until a family of 10 oafs showed up and ruined everything. By that point, the other families had left. For about 20 minutes Tim and I had owned our little hideawy. Then the oafs appeared and took over. They outnumbered us ten to two. I was pissed. I had a moment. To Tim I said, “We’re going. NOW.” He thought I meant we were going home. I just wanted to be away from the horrible, miserable, rude, wretched oafs and find another spot. Which we did. It was a nice, too, although not as nice as the first. After a little more swimming/standing, I took Rufus for a long walk. After about a kilometer, there weren’t very many people around and the peace and quiet was heavenly.
Oafs aside, it was really one of the loveliest afternoons we’ve had in France.
