Our morning
walk was windblown, wet & sandy. Intermittently
muddy, we splashed through salty pools nestled in shoals of low-tide mussels,
now exposed.
I thought of
the black-lip bowl at Ned’s, momentarily lost in memories of chopped garlic and
white wine.
The scent of
salt flats stirred by new morning breezes chasing their own tails ushered in a
dramatic new sunrise, a solar orchestra rising from the pit, instantly wowing an
appreciative audience.
Before
leaving, we rolled on our backs, squirming with delight atop a skeletal catfish
tossed unceremoniously into the high grass next to the car. Our own smells masked,
we were energized, rejuvenated and hungry for breakfast, as well as for the new
day itself.
Bits of
cheap hot dogs, cold from the fridge, torn into toss and catch treats for the girls,
a toasted bagel for me. I ripped off a piece of bagel, lobbing it up over my
head, just to see if I could catch it in my mouth to show solidarity to the
kids. They scrambled for my failed attempt as it bounced off the oriental rug,
into an empty shoe.
After bathing
the girls in the laundry tub, I even took a shower myself, cognizant of my responsibility
to lead by example.
Damp, now smelling
of shampoo, they collapsed at the foot of the bed, coma twitching in their squirrel
dreams, as I read my book.
Always
thankful.
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