#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream

. . . motion that forces change—

this is freedom. This is the force of faith. Nobody gets   

what they want. Never again are you the same. The longing

is to be pure. What you get is to be changed. More and more by

each glistening minute, through which infinity threads itself,   

also oblivion, of course, the aftershocks of something   

at sea. Here, hands full of sand, letting it sift through   

in the wind, I look in and say take this, this is   

what I have saved, take this, hurry. . .

~ Jorie Graham, Excerpt from “Prayer”

Waking up early to food shop in the freshly opened supermarket at 7:00 a.m. is not my favorite morning activity: but then, it’s a big job, and it’s done, behind me, and now Charlie and Suzi are ready to walk. So am I. What a sky! Unscarred, unclouded, simply purely blue August, and we are at the river, under it. I make Suzi go in after we circle the trails on our property: I know she isn’t up for the full walk to the dock and a swim, and I want her to be rested for a big adventure tomorrow. Charlie and I go through the woods, cross the meadow in the growing heat of the day. We approach the dock, the descent on the stone path. There are a few white puffy clouds now over the pond and the slightest rippling. It’s peaceful. And I feel the gratitude of this fresh water swim, my last one for a bit. Charlie is fishing when I swim off around the island. Sun on my back, the water so fresh and cool. When I return, twenty minutes later, I don’t see Charlie on the shore or the dock. I call to him. I’m afraid he has climbed the hill, gone near the road or drifted into a neighbor’s yard. I call and call. I am about to get out of the water to find him when I turn back toward the pond one more time. And there is Charlie, puffing along, swimming toward me. He has followed me? Gone looking for me? He has never done this before, and I don’t know how long his swim was. I’m certainly glad he is back! We have a long and happy walk home feeling refreshed. As soon as I finish watering the flowers the clouds gather and burst into a heavy downpour and some thunder: quick flash of a summer storm. Tonight my husband and I sit on our screened in porch and watch a wedding–live, on Zoom–that we were to have attended in person, on the West coast. The son of dear friends. It was truly special. I felt as if I was there on one of the white chairs in the garden. It was to be a much, much bigger wedding and many adjustments were made, and of course, the guest list ended up being twenty, not over a hundred. But it was exquisite. I held Frank’s hand, and teared up. So many adaptations going on for this pandemic. I loved being part of it, even from a distance. To see what our friends are experiencing, the marriage of their son, and all the words that were said, and all the dresses and suits and flowers.