"One said to me tonight or was it day 
or was it the passage between the two, 
"It's hard to remember, crossing time zones,

the structure of the hours you left behind." 

~ Excerpt from “Flying,” by Sarah Arvio

Early, extra early, I wake to do the prep for my Farm Pond Writer’s Wednesday morning writers, as we are meeting in virtual reality, long distance today, and I am creating our workshop from my website to meet on Zoom. Outside it is dark. Today’s writing prompt and theme is “surplus reality.” We’re working with photos about places where our imaginations thrive. When I see the sky over the Gulf turning faintly blue, I dress in layers, socks and sneakers, too, and a scarf, and my hat, and set off over the sand into the rising sun. Alone. The beach is windy, windswept, low tide, deserted. The birds are sheltering off stage. I walk north toward the lagoon and walk through the squishy mud observing a few birds. I feel hopeful, cheerful, and eager to meet with the writers, and after that, my good friend arrives from Boston. A text beeps on my phone from another dear friend, one who is in pain, and I walk along the sand being blown and write of comfort to her, all that I imagine will be helpful for her to hear and that I know how to say and mean. Hours later, more texts, and she has moved into a much better state of mind and heart. In the afternoon, after my time in virtual reality, across the miles with my Farm Pond Writers, I meet my Boston friend’s flight. We walk for miles along the beach in this enchanted place as the bright ball of sun drops below the horizon. We are friends from another place and time meeting in this enchanted place in time. Beer Can Island is where people paint the broken trees in cheerful colors and words and designs. Two sweet things fly over the miles to me: the oldest and the youngest have updated their resumes and want my eyes on them. I feel tethered in a pleasant way to the far away home.