We had a long, leisurely meal in a Portuguese restaurant last night with two other couples. We all ordered some variation of fresh, grilled seafood - but most of us had Black Alaskan Cod. It just melts in your mouth. The Portuguese wine flowed (too much into my wine glass) and the ever-smiling, generous owner interrupted as we were preparing to leave to offer us a Portuguese digestif (liqueur). We did not refuse his generosity. Oh dear.
Last night's indulgences weigh heavy on my countenance this morning. Looks like a crow walked over my face during sleep. Anyway, as I was silently bemoaning the face I will be living with today, my husband walked by and said something sweet. I realized he did not even notice my sallow skin and drooping, haggard eyes - or if he did notice, he saw no reason to dwell on it. Made me recall some sweet verse
by William Butler Yeats:
Ahhh yes, one man . . . . and he just now brought me a freshly brewed cup of coffee and has returned to the kitchen to make breakfast while I commune with you. How lucky am I?When You are OldWhen you are old and grey and full of sleep,And nodding by the fire, take down this book,And slowly read, and dream of the soft lookYour eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;How many loved your moments of glad grace,And loved your beauty with love false or true,But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,And loved the sorrows of your changing face, . . .