#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream

Ibis Flight

Another change of routine: A walk in a mall is walking, not a walk. This one was not even open yet, really, but I wanted coffee. Up early and driving to airport before sunrise, dropping loved ones, then a gap of two hours, waiting for my sister to arrive. I didn’t mind waiting. I minded the mall. But soon enough, we were beside the Gulf, and then I was really walking. A hefty wind, the waves wilder, and the birds huddled and crouched on the shoreline, tolerating their blown feathers. I found a jelly in the surf. No swim today; but very lovely sunshine in the blowing, and so much conversation, the kind that sisters make, gossipy and exuberantly grateful for family, and all the catching up. It is not a writing day; I wanted to write about my fascinating, wonderful dream and never found the time: I dreamed that my father was alive and spent some time with him, his younger self. In the dream, he hosted, for many years, a weekly meeting of the justices of the supreme court. Like a talking circle of sorts. At our home. And it was time for the final meeting, and I had a chance to say goodbye to them. And one of the judges, a pillowy woman (not one of the current female judges on the court) pulled me close and hugged me tightly, wordlessly, but for a whole couple of minutes. It was a lengthy, deliberate hug, and it felt fond and entirely approving. Well. What do you know about that? It was a pretty spectacular hug. A supreme hug, if you will.