and i did not die. i ate french fries, too, with ketchup. last week my nutrition took a distinctly liquid form — and the week before that — and the month before that.
is this a metaphor for life? i don't know. i just know that sometimes, we get to live life the way it was meant to be and sometimes, life sucks. and i'm trying to be grateful for the hamburgers along the way...
i walk in the grace of a soft summer rain. there is no pain in this moment. the dog walks before me, shunning my umbrella — water drips gently from its edges as the ibis shine white against the greyness of the day. mama duck swims with her brood splashing out suddenly, like children playing water games — the old heron stands sentinel, watching peace fall like rain
The terns were quite unperturbed by my presence, and posed tranquilly for the camera.
(Don't they look like jaunty old men with receding hairlines?)
The little guy is a juvenile (I think.) He stayed right by his elder the whole time -
maybe he's not a teenager, yet?
(Addendum: I now think the smaller bird is a Sandwich Tern. They nest with Royal Terns in Florida. I've been watching these birds every time I go to the beach, and I realized pretty quickly that the smaller terns were not juvenile Royals, but it's taken me a long time to figure out exactly what they are! And I'm still not 100% certain. I can't believe how difficult tern identification is!)
(You know the drill. Click here if you want to learn more.)
they were prescription progressives, with made-to-order clip on sunglasses that gave them a john lennon-esque air, and i'd loved the frames so much that i had the lenses re-made for them just a few months ago, even though they were three years old.
my family and i spent the better part of the day hunting for them with goggles and our feet on the ocean floor, all to no avail. it's amazing how bereft i felt at what was really a small loss, in the whole scheme of things. but they were my all-time favorite glasses and they don't make them anymore and i did feel sad.