Golden memories are the gratitude of the heart. How grateful I am for the five years (1986-1991) Helen and I lived in her old family home in Wales, that small, beautiful land of song.
I remember one morning sitting along the expansive estuary at Bangor, in North Wales. I saw boats - large boats, small boats, pleasure boats, fishing boats. And, all of them were anchored in mud. Every boat tilted, some to the right, others to the left. It was most definitely not a picture post card. The tide was out. The estuary was a mess, grim and unattractive. But, when the tide came in - and it always does - the mud lost its grip on the boats. They stood straight again. Awake, ready to go to sea! Those boats were free to come and go once more.
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| Bangor Photo... Probably not the view referred to by Richard, however... |
Our lives are often like the tides; some are tempestuous, while others come and go with the smoothness of silk. I like the words of the poet, Dylan Thomas (1914-1954) as the tides of life envelope me.
"Every morning when I wake,
Dear Lord, a little prayer I make.
O please to keep Thy loving eye
On all poor creatures born to die.
And every evening at sundown
I ask a blessing on the town.
For whether we last the night or no
I'm sure is always touch-and-go.
We are not wholly bad or good
Who live our lives under Milk Wood.
And Thou, I know, will be the first
To see our best side, not our worst."
With blessings and in friendship,
Richard
