Thoughts from the Porch

November 18, 2010

There’s a cool breeze out here on the front porch. The wind makes a relaxing sound as it passes through the fronds of the coconut palms and banana trees. The sea has a slight chop. Emelie is sitting on the sea wall combing her long, dark hair. I like to watch. There is a grace to the way she moves her head and arm in unison while the comb slides smoothly from scalp to the tips of her hair, like a ritual dance performed thousands of times since she was a little girl. It’s revealing in some way. There is self-contentment in it. I feel like I am watching a private moment, being performed right there on the sea wall, for all passersby to see.

Emelie is gone now. A man and his wife walk past, holding the ropes that restrain their 3 cows: a momma Brahma and her two calves. Every morning the three bovines chew their way along the grass strip between the road and the seawall. Eat and walk. Eat and walk. It’s a pastoral scene with a watery background. In the evening they go the other way, homeward bound. They walk slow and eat slow, as if time is of no concern and the grass will always be there. I am envious of such certainty; such trust in the nature of things. We might think of it as naiveté, but I prefer to think of it as wisdom beyond naiveté. Isn’t it a wiser choice to relax and let the future unfold than to worry over what we cannot control?