Let's see the sunrise

On one of our last days of vacation and after a day or more of rain, we head over to the beach to eek out a little beach light. At first the light was there but shrouded in sketchy clouds. We made videos of doing the splits and made necklaces and dug a hole, a very deep hole. Little by little the clouds dissipated and the light that had been so far away all day broke free. The kids continued to play and their little bodies became glowier and glowier. Soon, the daylight gave way to the fiery sunset light. My daughter was thrilled to be witnessing such a glorious sunset and she began to make plans to set my alarm so we could watch the sunrise. We never did make it for the sunrise. Someday we will.

There is something so primal and mystical about sunsets. They betwitch us and nudge us towards the night.

Slowly but surely the sunset released us from this day.

Comments

I entered August without you.

I won't visit you this month. You won't call. I will raid your garden and you won't get any of the vegetables. I will make plans without telling you about them. We'll go to the store and not buy you one single thing. Whole books will be read and I will not tell you which ones. I will watch movies and not inform you. The nasturiums will ripen. Last month was different. I changed my schedule and took time off work to be with you. I dropped all kinds of plans for us to be together. You sent me messages, I received them. I picked up food that I thought you would like at the store and sent you pictures of every beautiful thing I saw. I sang with you. We watched the Great Canadian Baking Show. You chose the recipe for the garlic scape pesto and gave me instructions for making the gooseberry jam. I am in August without you. You are in July.

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Growing Versions

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