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It started with a ride on a boardwalk bicycle surrey seated between my daughter and husband who pedaled us along in the morning sun while passing shops, waves crashing in the near distance, breezes blowing in my face, in authentic fun unknown since the surgery on my foot two months ago. Son and his sweet girl were up ahead on their own bikes. We shared a perfect breakfast on a patio facing the beach, dazzled by a perfect blue sky above a perfect blue ocean.

Even chores at the house were charmed, finally painting the deck railings, watery sounds off the canal in my ear, breezes in the treetops, family nearby and my thoughts my own. My nephew arrived after a fourteen-hour drive from Georgia, a rare treat. Dinner was take-out and frozen margaritas. And then an outdoor movie, shown on a sheet strung up on the garage door under a sky full of stars, a sea breeze dancing in and around us, all to celebrate our brand new driveway. We don’t have to pick weeds from the gravel anymore.

At the end of the day I knew it had been an uncommon perfection. I call it to mind on this frustratingly unsettling Wednesday, that is, that rare, elusive, unlikely, perfect day.

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