SWORDFERN
Rooted, I used to think.

Profile - Archive�- RSS
Guestbook - Email - Diaryland

Giving Notice - Friday, Sept. 29, 2017
Accepting Offers - Tuesday, Sept. 26, 2017
Indian/Polish Wedding - Thursday, Sept. 21, 2017
The Builder - Wednesday, Sept. 13, 2017
Rupert Part II - Sunday, Sept. 10, 2017


Wednesday, Apr. 23, 2003 @ 11:51 pm
Home again, home again, jiggity jig.



So last night we were walking hand-in-hand across the rippled sandbars. The sunlight was low and corduroy shadows patterned the sand. He'd worn sandals, and I hadn't told him that we were going to the beach. There were herons and seagulls and nobody else.

It should have been amazing.

Everything is right with him and then everything is wrong.

There was this moment last night. We were leaning on each other looking in opposite directions - me towards the island and him towards the city - and I laughed out loud at the clams squirting water from the sand. The clams were not what I was looking at the sunset and the freighters were my focus but the clams stole the moment. The clams. Now I realize that everything I'm looking for will not be where it should logically exist. Look down and around and beyond the surface of things. Seems so obvious now, and I should have known this before. But it took clams to gel the concept in my brain.

We feasted on bbq quail this afternoon. Then I left for good. There are no frogs singing here. I miss the cat. Mom is already fussing. Apparently my way of doing laundry is wrong, despite the fact I've been doing it this way for 5 years. This is going to be a long two weeks.

Monkeys!


Roots | Shoots