X Marks the Spot

Recently, on one of our last walks along the sea here in Villefranche I was taking the occasional photo. When we stopped for a coffee I started browsing through my pictures. Without giving it much thought, I responded to a question from Jann. I said, “Oh… I’m just checking on my Xs.”

Jann looked up, mildly amused, and asked, “And how are they all doing?” It took me a moment to realize what she was saying. I stammered a reply and she laughed. Laughter is so good. Disarming, healthful, energizing peals of one of the bells of life. I don’t do it enough. Jann can break into a big guffaw even at the sight of a wave crashing on the rocks. Give her a good video from John Oliver and she is unstoppable.

Anyway, ‘X’ does actually mark the spot. We are underneath one of the crossroads of international aviation. Every day, we watch aircraft flying to and from Africa, Spain, England, and all of northern Europe. On occasion the contrails cross, marking our spot. After our return to California I noticed that the ‘X’ had moved and was now precisely over our little home on the jade-green Mill Creek in Healdsburg. I guess that, wherever we all are, X does mark the spot. For me, it means to try to live the day I have, wherever I am, because that is home.

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