School days, school days ...
Full well, I know full well that I'll not finish messing with this blogpost before the square of dark chocolate finishes melting on my tongue and the last sip of black coffee is gone and I get up, dress and leave.
Second cup of black too, which generally but one cup before going on with whatever Friday has in mind for me. Meet Robert at Holy Pavilion for the walk that in these eight or nine years has dwindled from vigorously taking in whole parts of The Cove where we grew up
and pointing out where each member of our Cove School Class of 1949 lived, to now strolling a few blocks while calling life's springtime back to mind and then to breakfast.
So far, it's strolling not stumbling, so there's that to be said not only for a bit of exercise,
and the meal together that scripturally is an element of covenant; but also for soon eighty years of friendship, similar values and shared memories. Not only do we remember the two wooden bridges, 4th Street Bridge and Tarpon Dock Bridge, but turns out that during the Cove School Days we even had crushes on some of the same girls: two eight year old boys would never have admitted these things to each other, but the same two boys as octogenarians certainly will.
Second cup of black too, which generally but one cup before going on with whatever Friday has in mind for me. Meet Robert at Holy Pavilion for the walk that in these eight or nine years has dwindled from vigorously taking in whole parts of The Cove where we grew up
and pointing out where each member of our Cove School Class of 1949 lived, to now strolling a few blocks while calling life's springtime back to mind and then to breakfast.
So far, it's strolling not stumbling, so there's that to be said not only for a bit of exercise,