For one and a half hour every morning I live in a perfect world. The sky is blue above me and the autumn sun is warming up a new day – a new day that feels full of promise.
In this perfect world of mine, a car stops and waves when I wait to cross the road and the council worker wishes me a good morning while the builders along the path stop and say: “g’day, you’re back!” With a spring in my step I turn left and smell the grass while I softly sing simple songs. I watch the majestic swans, the wobbly ducks and sometimes I watch the pelicans landing on the water, still and clear as a mirror’s surface. I sometimes stop on the path and joggers pass me by, bicycle riders veer around me – not a word of irritation that I am in their way; a perfect world.
A small nod of the head, only recognized by those in the know; a glance, eye contact and a smile for acknowledgement.
I live in my perfect world when I take Jack in his stroller for our daily walk.