I’ve just returned from a yummy week-end at my favorite motel on my favorite Gulf of Mexico beach. The motel is located next to a little outdoor cafe right on the water that has live music on the week-ends. I always get their clam platter. Every time.
This week-end was no exception. I was digging into my clams, listening to a DJ play mostly oldies, while a bunch of happy old farts bopped around the concrete dance floor. All shapes and sizes. People were singing along, too. “Swe-e-e-eet Caroline!” they sang. A happy place.
I looked around the little cafe and my eye landed on a table a couple down from mine. There sat a beautiful woman with one sun-streaked blonde braid draped casually over her shoulder. She looked like a Norse goddess or a buxom milkmaid with a golden tan. She sat at the table with a blond man, equally beautiful, probably her husband, and two beautiful little girls, both flaxen-haired like their mom.
I took care not to stare, but I was mesmerized by this woman’s beauty and naturalness. She didn’t seem to have a self-conscious bone in her body, eating and laughing and talking as if she relished every moment of her life. No hint of moodiness or mystery to her, which I would normally dismiss as a superficial lack of depth. But no, she was like a healthy young animal who didn’t know how to obsess or over-analyze. She appeared to just live her life and enjoy it, no questions asked. Uncomplicated.
Then the DJ announced that he had a request for something called “The Cuban Shuffle.” The woman’s eyes lit up even more when she heard that, and she led her little girls to the dance floor, then proceeded to dance the steps as if she’d been doing it all her life. In perfect rhythm, swinging her hips and moving her arms, her ample bosom moving comfortably along with the rest of her perfectly proportioned body. She was enjoying the hell out of the dance and her little girls.
I watched her handsome husband watching them, holding up his smartphone to capture them on video. He had a look of appreciative admiration in his eyes as he watched his woman. Two seemingly perfect people had found each other and made these two perfect little girls and were on this perfect holiday eating beach food and having a great time.
All this in just a few minutes of observation. Perhaps the woman had quirks or hangups or little flaws like ordinary people, like me. Everyone’s human. But I really think maybe she was one of those extraordinary human beings whom the gods smile upon. People who are just lucky and have it all together. A charmed childhood and no trace of depression in their DNA.
I like who I am, who I’ve become, with my mystical musings and tendency to reflect. I see the value of suffering transcended and the transformation that comes of it,
and I like “interesting” people, but if I’m honest I have to admit that I really wouldn’t mind being just a teensy bit more like the goddess.