I was up early on Saturday morning. In a few hours, we would be packing up cars, rechecking the cottages for personal items, and driving back to Agua Dulce.
At the dining room table, I was checking e-mail on my computer, when another early riser, Ashley, joined me. She was firing up her computer to add the finishing touches to her project for the graduate class she was taking. With a piece of cold pizza from last night’s dinner, Ashley sat down and went right to work.
It was a while before the rest of the house guests started to stir. But when they did, starting the initial phases of packing was first on the list. Progress was made, and a small group of us started the walk to Jack’s Bistro and Famous Bagels for our second visit. The restaurant was busy, but the hostess found us a table near the entrance. This allowed us to get a good luck at the large, black and white historical photos properly displayed along the walls.
We placed our orders, and it wasn’t long before the food arrived. Conversation subsided as our breakfast choices captured our attention.
After breakfast, the priority was clearing our belongings from the cottages and packing cars.
Abby took the lead in making sure we had our assignments, and it wasn’t long before the staggered departures were taking place.
Parker, Brandi, and Tyrell were heading to Ventura to visit with some of Parker’s friends. Rachel, Garth, and their children said goodbye to the beach and were soon on the road. Ashley and Elizabeth were thinking about making a couple of stops in Carpinteria before heading out. And the old folks, Abby, Art, Betsy, and me would be the last to leave insuring that all was well with the cottages for their respective owners.
Pretty soon, Carpinteria was in the rear view mirror, and we were out on the highway winding our way past the Pacific coast landscape.
Traffic was moving easily, and before we knew it, we were in Santa Clarita.
We had an important stop at the kennel to pick up Lucy before arriving back into Agua Dulce.
Lucy was happy to be picked up as it sounded like all of the dogs in the kennel were barking their goodbyes to her.
It was good to arrive back at Abby and Art’s home. We unloaded, and prepped for a quiet afternoon by their backyard pool.
At the pool, Charlotte and Grayson were enjoying the pool time with their Dad supervising.
While watching all of this splashing and jumping, my old brain reflected back to a bumper sticker I had seen on the back of an SUV at an intersection in Santa Clarita, it said: “Have A God Day.”
In world that seems to be in unrelentless turmoil every day, I wonder what that bumper sticker might mean to a person anymore?
What is a “God Day”?
Is it a day when all goes well for me?
Is it a day when the world appears to be in less chaos with itself?
Why is it that we are seemingly more uncivil with ourselves in our daily living?
Is it because we don’t have many “God Days” in our lives?