"The years between fifty and seventy are the hardest. You are always being asked to do things, and yet you are not decrepit enough to turn them down."
- T. S. Eliot
Our dear friend Brian turned sixty-five yesterday. After a lot of discussion about how his special day would be celebrated, Geraldine and I decided to throw a small, casual dinner party at their home. We planned a buffet meal that could be eaten wherever the 22 guests chose, at a poolside table or in the house. We laid out a few appetizers - a couple of cheese plates, a veggie platter and an antipasto platter and then served a simple dinner of maple glazed salmon, peppered beef tenderloin, caprese salad, green salad and rosemary roasted potatoes. For dessert there was birthday cake, a fruit platter and cookies. Everything was yummy.
A couple of Ger's sisters were there including Beverly. Though I have exchanged several e-mails with her and we are Facebook friends, it was the first time I've met Beverly. She is in the middle of chemo, a bit frail and in a considerable measure of pain. But she is lovely, wearing my old wig far better than I ever looked in it. A few of Brian's and Ger's oldest friends were there - some I recognized from his sixtieth birthday party but none that recognized me. When Brian turned sixty I didn't have a hair on my head and had long given up wearing my wig in the face of a scorching summer. There were few people who met me in those days who could see much more than the shine of my head. I didn't bother to remind anyone of our first meeting.
The night air was very warm and I had hoped to swim after all the other guests had gone. But the mosquitoes were biting and I was tired after a long day of shopping and cooking so I passed on a late night dip. It is a gorgeous day today. The sun is shining and the air is not so heavy as yesterday. I think the pool is beckoning me for an afternoon splash.
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