Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?
—The Summer Day, Mary Oliver (American poet – 1935-2019)
Photo: Balloons over a field in Qurna, Egypt (2023)
I reminisce about the past and ponder my future. I know it is very likely that I have already lived more, than what is yet to come. I think about my varying careers, the places I travelled to and worked at. I fondly recall the wonderful faces and spirits of the people who passed gracefully through my life (some of whom have somehow managed to stay), and grimace at the thought of those who deigned to tarnish my humour.
What do I want to be when I grow up? I’m still searching, seeking an answer. The options are innumerable, and I oft feel overwhelmed with decisions like where should I go on holiday? Do I climb Mount Kilimanjaro, view the ruins at Machu Picchu, ride ponies on the steppe in Mongolia…
I’d love to visit the sand dunes that touch the sea in Namibia, and eat Bún chả giò at Halong Bay, and drink the best coffee in Addis Ababa.
And the books…my list of ‘must read’ books keeps getting added to, and trimmed, knowing full well that if I read constantly until the day I die, I will not get through them all.
But mostly, I think about the small house and plot of land I want to have somewhere in Egypt – where I can grow my own pomegranates and olives. Where I can spend my days making pottery and drinking gahwa, and reveling in the sunshine.
Oh, what shall it be? This precious life of mine - still unfolding. I look forward to new discoveries.
