#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream

Menemsha Morning

“The lesson, I suppose, is that none of us have much control over how we will be remembered. Every life is an amalgam, and it is impossible to know what moments, what foibles, what charms will come to define us once we’re gone. All we can do is live our lives fully, be authentically ourselves, and trust that the right things about us, the best and most fitting things, will echo in the memories of us that endure.” ~ Alice McDermott

I am going to. be an “ancestor.” This thought comes to me today. Of course, I am already an ancestor; I have descendants. My three children. But the addition of a grandchild is more meaningful. Because it suggests lineage. A grandchild begets a child and then I am a great grandmother, and then a great, great grandmother to someone, and even more. I am one who will have come before someone. What will she, he, they know of me and want to know of me? One grandchild, at least, I will hold in my arms soon. Soon. Soon is a lovely, interesting word. We walked this morning, our last walk, my friend and me, before her departure today and with Charlie, up Prospect Hill and then down to the Sound and all along the rock covered beach and the clay; and then my two daughters, who took the shorter route, met us on the beach under a steel grey sky and it was cool. They brought Suzi, we brought Charlie, and then we, united, crossed the fresh water brook and passed the massive boulders of the beach and rounded two corners and there we took our dip on the deserted beach. The seaweed had rolled in; the tide was coming in, and it was cool; and it was a little hard to decide to go in, but go in we all did and rolic and roll around and enjoy the cliffs in front of us and the wavy Sound around us. We hiked home; and I had a poetry workshop online. What a workshop it was! I was so glad I decided to attend even though I’m here. The poems of my fellows were exceptional, and so was our discussion. My new poem about dyslexia (my daughter’s) was well received. Every one of us brought something quite illuminating in our discussion and we share so many insights. It was rich. And then, in the afternoon, somehow Frank ran a large Zoom webinar from his car, while I ran my IWWG Open Mic from the dining room table of our rental, and that too was exceptional. The features brought rich stories and we had great discussion and wonderfully rich and diverse open mic: readers from Egypt, Israel, all over the US, the island of Dominica, and Pakistan. Quite something; so much shared community across so many boundaries. It rained in the late afternoon; no beach today, but so much else. There is much in the news that I have been unable to attend to very much and I’m letting that be okay. Our conversations here are deep and expansive and relevant. I had very grief filled dreams last night. I won’t discuss them here, except to say I felt it, palpably, the grief. I grieved intensively in my sleep and woke with the lingering ache of loss that was real in the dream dimension, and reflects, of course, so much in this troubled world. I am early to bed, tired, and will see what images surface in this night of sleep.