The summer is winding down, should have been home by now. We ran from two islands, but Irene caught us in NY and has us grounded. No space on any airlines, so we wait, stuck, packed, ready, in memories.
We left this behind, spending our last day on the farm haying:
My husband got to do this:
while I ran around finding things like this:
I had no idea a wasp’s nest could be as the moon, with a man sitting inside it.
And yes, it was beautiful, the mountains and sky and space and rivers. I like that.
But I love this:
I need this:
When I climb into water, I climb back into myself. No matter how long I have been away, I find it just beneath the surface. It’s always there waiting. Sometimes for too long. Sometimes, I believe, I cry simply to taste salt.
Little crabs came to visit:
I caught a lizard being coy:
The moon stayed with us all day:
The last morning, before we had to evacuate our little dollop of sand that sits in the middle of heaven, the rain came briefly, but hard, turning the water into diamonds. We ran into it, warmth hugging our legs and bodies, heads smacked with a cooler type of wetness. It left as quickly as it came, leaving behind even more beauty:
Everything must come to an end.
I feel full. The last two weeks at the sea filled my cup. I am ready to go back now. Discover Rome all over again, discover it anew.
But we sit in NY, and wait….