The Perfect Day

I might be wrong about this, but . . . today may have been “the perfect day.”

My wife got up early (for a Saturday) and drove off with a good friend at 7:22 AM, headed for a day of shopping at a craft fair a couple of hours to the south. Our dog, Lex, and I got up just after she left, and began our day. I made the bed, the kitchen got cleaned up, and the washroom straightened. A breakfast of oats, fresh fruit, almonds and coffee was followed by a quick trip to the bank just as it opened so that I could visit my safe deposit box and then make a bank deposit.

When I returned home my daughter and I went together for a cup of Dunkin Donuts coffee, spoke with several employees there (that we’ve come to know quite well), and then drove to the site where I will be playing guitar and singing next Saturday evening – to scope out the situation and figure out the placement of loudspeakers, etc.

Upon returning home I put on old jeans and launched into my outdoor tasks for the day: cutting down what remains of the hedges in front of our house, mowing the front and back yards, blowing, raking, and bagging the fall leaves that are making their 2013 debut, then blowing the driveway clean.

An exquisite lunch followed: left over beef and barley soup, toast with peanut butter and avocado (my own creation, sure to become the latest rage since the peanut butter and banana combo I was raised on many years ago), and a few delightful pieces of strawberry, pineapple, cantaloupe, and raspberry.

I told my daughter that lunch was “as good as the smell of a young dog pup’s breath.” But . . . she failed to appreciate the illustration. I’m not sure why.

When my daughter left in the early afternoon to go practice with the church band, I headed to the gym for a short walk on the elliptical (it actually ended up being shorter than I had planned due to my previous activity today – I was worn out), followed that with a much needed shower, a change of clothes, a quick glance at how the stock market is faring, and then I headed for Starbucks. Where I now sit. Writing and drinking a grande salted caramel mocha frappuccino.

Life is good.

My wife will return home in another hour or two. Prior to that I will try to work in some rehearsal time (for my show next Saturday). And after dinner tonight we will go to my other daughter’s house to see our grandson, then sit and watch “The Wonder Years” (which we failed to see when it was aired on TV years ago) with her before heading back home and settling in for another night of much needed sleep.

I feel very blessed, indeed. Some tasks accomplished. Enjoying an absolutely beautiful fall day with a bright, clear, blue sky, and mild temperatures.

A family where love and mutual support are outstanding characteristics (although I must add, we have had to work to get there).

Gifts without number. That I do not deserve. But I appreciate very much.

As my neighbor, Bill Horton, shouted out across the street to me 20 years ago (in Red Bank, TN) as he raised his arms skyward on a beautiful fall day:

“I didn’t do anything to deserve this!  Did YOU?”

No. I didn’t.

And I do not, today.

And so, in contrast to The Perfect Storm . . . factors have converged on this October 5th to create The Perfect Day. A day where love, family, hard work, and leisure have nested together in absolutely perfect proportion.

About ivanbenson

I am a singer, guitar player, writer, story teller, voice over talent, and heart attack survivor in the Atlanta, Georgia area.
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6 Responses to The Perfect Day

  1. Suzanne says:

    Love, love, love this! 🙂

  2. Ron Benson says:

    I love it Ivan. It reminds me of fall days a “few” years back when you and I played football in the front yerad. Or maybe a “few” more back when grand-daddy burned leaves. Although, I truly love every day in all their varied meterological forms, some are more special than others in that they beg you to take the time to notice them.
    Ron

    • ivanbenson says:

      Thanks for your comments, Ron. Yes. Good memories, indeed. Maybe the “old guys” can toss a football a bit in a couple of months. That would be fun. Followed by . . . a coddling of the sore muscles. Ha!

  3. Dave Ross says:

    Great story, buddy!
    So, where are you playing?

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