I came to explore the wreck.
The words are purposes.
The words are maps.
I came to see the damage that was done
and the treasures that prevail.

~ Adrienne Rich, Excerpt from “Diving into the Wreck”

My daughter’s bed, who knew, how comfortable it is? Smaller than ours, a little, and cozier for that. I sleep so well, and so does Frank. A hard, needful rest. Waking. My husband, he si the king of resilience. What lessons—he’s a walking lesson in positive attitude and energy. First, to the woods, to the woods, and my lens and my desire to capture the beautiful, meaning-making images. Ah, here is a lady, a blue-white figure, a floater, reclining in the morning brook, she is at peace in her Sunday sanctuary. And here is the swan on the Charles River, swimming along, making peaceful ripples in her glide. It is cold but pleasant, and the sky is so bright. Return, to the lawn, here is charred roof heaved off by the firefighters, the chimney top, metal, a fascinating arrangement of color; I have to have a picture. I see: Transformation. We begin to make a new order. We begin to image what is new, what is changed, what is becoming. We are comfortable, warm, fed. Our friends and family so present and attentive. I must go through my clothes, the cleaner is coming to take them away. I have too many, and love them all. Some are soaking wet, some with char chunks. They are just clothes. I wore them once and many times. I will wear them again, and if I couldn’t, what would it matter? And yet, it does. How much personality and style and memory and experience are in these fibers. How fortunate I am! They have survived! But I think, at first, I can’t do this. I can’t let them go to the cleaners. Then, Frank helps me, and I begin. And it’s done. After dark, I stroll under the stars with the special one. It’s cold and pleasant and quiet and fresh. So many people have grave concerns right now. Covid striking so many. I feel so fortunate and grateful and it’s a blessing to know that I am.