bids for connection

[AUGUST]

My position on boats is fairly well established. I don't care for them (sorry) but I'm not afraid of them (not sorry) I just don't like how ambiguous an activity it is. You head out and return...sometime later. Who, me? Doubt it.

So. Naturally, my children took to sailing. Powered by the literal wind, the same wind that is known for 'change.' Wow. Ok.

So. Naturally, I swallow my words. I adjust my position, my sail as it were, and I follow where they lead. From a separate boat, powered by something less

On a dirt road in the woods I was running, unaware of my surroundings as always deep in my own mind as usual. I was startled back to life by a dog jumping on my back. One paw on each shoulder. I screamed. A real, deep, horror movie scream and his tail went between his legs. I caught my breath and said "I'm sorry, I know you're scared too." I marveled at the resilience of my pelvic floor in that moment. I blinked at the reminder of how small I am, how small we all are. Him, too. He followed me for a while, just to make sure I was ok, I assume.

Dave took Vesper to a concert, a stadium concert, a core memory event. Vesper held onto the souvenir t-shirt for a year until it finally, after spending the last days of summer working in it, it became the hand sewn back panel for a thrifted jean jacket, a conversation piece for the first (ever) day of school, a core memory event.

I find myself running. From things. Away from things. Always to the lake. In the same shoes as last season. Because it seem like an uneeded expense. Because I lost track of time. Because I lost track, in general. But some runs some days you find your way in the way you needed, old shoes or not, something to remember when I feel lost.