I’ve always regarded myself  as a lucky woman: and indeed I still do.    I think that element of confident optimism – a belief that if you do your utmost everything will eventually turn out for the best – though possibly not what you thought would be best;  you regard every day as a fresh adventure;  and you endure what is difficult with a cheerful spirit – then that attitude alone attracts good fortune towards you.

A small miracle happens to me nearly every morning.

Our bedroom faces east, so the rising sun illuminates it in the morning.   I like mirrors – there are three in this room, and by a happy coincidence, and entirely unplanned by me, the sun – at this time of year around 8 in the morning, shines into the mirror above my chests of drawers, is then reflected into the long mirror at the foot of our bed, and shines back on me, full in my face.   This lasts for perhaps a minute and it fills me with delight and wonder every day.

I understand, on a smaller scale of course, how our ancestors must have felt as they stood in the tomb at Maes Howe, Orkney, in the winter darkness, surrounded by the bones of their forebears and – if they were lucky and it was an unclouded day – then the winter sun for a few glorious and magic minutes, flooded the chamber with a golden light.

My mother used to announce, apparently with mild surprise, on some day in Spring, “We have survived the winter.”   I was young and foolish then and took my survival for granted and did not realise what a blessing it was.    My mother has departed and her love no longer shines upon me.   But when the sun kisses my face in the morning I remember my mother and her reverence and wonder and pleasure in the natural world, and I count myself a lucky woman.

(I think originally I took this photograph in the evening sun in Livingston, West Lothain, Scotland, but it comes to me via Eugene’s archives.)


About adhocannie
I am a good natured woman with a long memory and a swift tongue. I like loooking at things and thinking about them. Also food, clothes, travel, reading, sewing. I try to see the ridiculous in things, but sobriety of reflection keeps edgting in. I have husband, children, grandchildren, friends... I feel rich in things that matter. I am a happy exile. I like writing. I do not like talking about me (though I do.). You willl be much more interesting.

2 Responses to ON BEING LUCKY

  1. Carolyn Hulatt says:

    Hi Anne

    It seems such a feeble response to such an essay, but how lovely your descriptions and reminiscences are.

    Love Carolyn

    Sent from my iPhone

  2. adhocannie says:

    Not at all. Thank you. Nice to know someone appreciates them!

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