shuffling back and forth on the deck of the present

before the boat slowly pulls away into the future. Because it hurts

 

to say goodbye, to pull your body out of the warm water;

 

to step out of the pocket of safety, clinging to what you knew,

or what you thought you knew about yourself and others.

~ Excerpt from “The Party,” Jason Shinder

When I open my eyes, I hear it, the rain. I am not craving a wet walk, but that’s what it will be. I do not feel particularly rested, but I am happy and grateful, and satisfied. Frank had a wonderful party. Neither of us has slept well. It’s hard to sleep well after the excitement of a party! I take two walks: early, a stroll in the pouring rain around our property; the trail along the river is flooded; the gardens, all in bloom, are bright but straining under the rain, and many flowers are battered and limp. I am worried about my vegetables who want some some. Yellow squash, some of them, starting to rot in their youth. The tent canopy that we failed to get down in the yard has been ruined by wind and rain. The river is high as the bench! My rain boots are full of water. Still, it’s summer. It’s muggy warm and leafy green. A pleasure. Then, the youngest wakes up and asks if I want to swim. Of course I do. I’m very physically tired and think I won’t go far. But go, I will. We decided to walk to my friend’s dock. The brook has overflowed the trail and we wade through knee-cap high water to begin our trek. Charlie, what a sport! We actually have a lovely, energetic swim-around the island twice. Once I’m swimming, my strokes are giving me energy, not taking my energy. We splash home, quite satisfied. Yes, the house is chaos. I manage a bit of it. Leftovers abound. I decide it’s okay and there’s a deadline to setting up a party, but there is no deadline for cleaning one up. My son and I try to give blood in Dover; there’s a huge shortage, we’re O negative, and he has found the blood drive and we had made this plan days ago. We get there and discover that if you’ve had a tick bite within six months you cannot give blood! What? Who hasn’t had a tick bite in the last six months? I had one yesterday! So, we cannot give. I get a brief nap and a long call with a dear friend I dearly needed to connect with from the other coast. I am filled up. And poetry tonight is a wonderful, deep conversation and exploration. I bring a poem from the letters. Tonight, my feet are quite pleasantly dry. They will be dry all night. They will rest well and prepare over these next hours to be wet again in the morning rain. My good feet. May you grow webbed if that’s what’s necessary.