The letter for today is: G, where I feature grateful and grapefruit.
Anyone can see by the expression on my face that I'm grateful for a long life, lived well. By the time a person reaches seventy years, emotion has painted the wrinkles with a bias toward the normal. Bad attitude can't be erased from the brow or the tight line of a mouth.
I'm grateful for each era I've lived through, the fifties, when I rocked as a teenager with flipped-up curls in my hair and petticoats under full skirts. The sixties brought a time when people explored flower-power and ate grilled grapefruit for an entre. In the seventies, my family and I toured Australia in a large caravan, studying alternate lifestyles and in the eighties we ran a craft shop where I spun wool from our own colored sheep. By the nineties, I lived on the other side of the world from my land of birth, and by the next century, I'd traveled the world five times and retired to a small cottage. Yes, I live in a place which resembles heaven—and I'm grateful.