#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream

Morning Brook

There is sun in the brook that looks like fire. It is running full and fast, this noisy hush. The hours have moved, the clocks have change. I leave the house at 7:45, which is really 6:45 in my internal clock, and it’s bright enough, and I meet my friend in the open field. The dogs run fast to each other, they are meeting too, and happy for this friendship. I miss hugging my friends hello and goodbye; I begin to realize we will touch again. We take a long walk and talk, and dive deep into conversation as we tromp the messy woods, the sticks that try to trip us up, the frozen, muddy ruts that throw our balance off. It is wonderful to walk for miles and return home past the brook. And, shortly thereafter, I am a double winner: my dear friend drives over and we walk along the river here and in the field, and she brings her little dog, and Charlie has gotten used to this little whippersnapper now and so he is brig brotherly and friendly and a decent host. Another deep dive into conversation with a dear friend, covering so much of what’s current and where the next weeks will lead us, out of this pandemic, we hope. This night, 29 years ago, one of the happiest of my life: my first daughter living in the world with us, born safely, born wonderfully, born gorgeously, like the golden sun shimmering this morning brook. And still, here is she is, bringing such a gorgeous energy into my every day, a woman now.