morning walk on the beach 

Ferry Beach, Saco, Maine

Impressions in wet sand. Sneekers and boots, sandles and a few bare and naked feet. Just a few bare feet, it is october afterall.  Round impressions from walking sticks and baby feet every so often. But regularly, those baby feet. And I wonder why. I imagine a parent, scooping up a toddler into a piggy back ride and then letting the wiggling wee one down after a short riding respite. Dog prints in wild archs going in and out of the ends of waves, the line where the tide erases everything. 

And I imagine how sooner or later, tonight and tomorrow early morning, a tide will come in and take away all traces of our shod and unshod animal prints. Flood the prints with the waves coming ashore, leaving the sand smooth and pristine again. 

What if the bits of sadnesses, stresses, worries and longings of our lived days were left in the prints we leave during our walkings. Left to be swollowed up by the lapping water. As if by intention, as if what we could not carry any longer could be returned to some universe. As if by returning to the sea what we could not bear, we might be comforted and even healed by the rhythmn of the to and fro, in and out, of the salty waves. 

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just so much this time

Day 12 of school.  Julia had challenges last week transitioning to going to school and the new school schedule, but this week has been pretty good.  There is not much homework because classes are 90 minutes each and she has some study support built into her day.  I’ve been arranging for one after school activity a day—she gets home after 4 so one is all she can do—and that too has gone well.  Julia is still on her iPad hiatus and so it is important to have planned activities; however, for the most part she is not whining for more time online.  After-school cello, theater class and therapy are all online as are all of her general ed courses.  She is tired at the end of her day.

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soul feeds

Julia has today off for Yom Kippur.  I’ve never observed the day of atonement but this year, because it is punctuated by a school holiday, it sticks in my mind.  Who to include on the list of those to ask forgiveness of, who to reach out to, who to say a silent prayer for, to give a silent thought for.  

Lists.

I have a list of what I’d like do during this season—reading, writing, getting body and voice into shape—and the challenge is simply beginning.  Six months at home alone with Julia, working as planner and manager as well as caregiver and cook, makes the discipline to begin something for myself hard. Last week, days 4 to 8 of my free days, I did what I needed to do—finally getting to see the dentist, finding a place to fix my rocking chair and bringing it in, returning books to the library and picking up new holds, a bit of weeding and cooking. I don’t seem to be able to slam into the discipline I need but I can pick off some low hanging fruit.  My lists should probably be written in circles.  That low hanging fruit needs picking so it wasn’t a waste of time, it just didn’t feel like a launch.

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