The long night gives way to a drool soaked morning. Which I swipe with the back of my hand.
This notion of loneliness gives way to knowledge of what it means to be friend. My mind is dream soaked as I try to understand the message, where? I ask. And then When?
Singing Josh Groban and Bonnie Raitt and the Dixie Chicks at the top of our lungs, we miss the turn off and find ourselves driving in a quaint area with lots of photo opportunities. I chastise myself for forgetting a sketchbook or a camera. At the beach I am dive bombed by a larger bug and then the luck of the ladybug is upon me. I let her along for the ride.
We walk long and long past the well groomed beach and onto the hardpack sand. Zebra mussels and driftwood are scatteredpall along the shore. I do yoga in the sand stretching my body as you set up your umbrella. We speak of heartache and love, we speak of the struggle of school and this crazy world. We are sad of the way people treat each other. About how much of a struggle it is.
We laugh at our bodies reactions to the cold water as we slowly make our way deeper. We drift on the rocky waters laughing at our struggle to get on the floaties, and worried about a park ranger stopping us from taking our own risk in the waves.
Later I walk with the dog in Clark and am amazed at the number of frogs or toads that are hopping along the trail. I recognize the quiet in myself and stop to listen for a moment. All day long all I can think of is the small messages from God that I only hear when I am silent. Thoughtful. Contemplative. I feel a kind of truce coming within me. I wave a white flag.