Sep 23, 2019

I heard it was the last day of summer, and it was. Toes sandy, bags sleeping- a hot off-peak weekend camping the dunes of Cape Cod.

Who could have dreamed or feared the things we’ve lived this season? On this side, and then that. Our blanket tugged into the coolness of shadow, and then back to the near blazing light. We move forward and forward some more, staying with the warmth, and then as the tide meets shadow, we recede to the dark, as we are pushed back.

I’ve been quiet lately, pausing with the lessons I’m learning. I try to evade stress, like a girl chasing the edge of the water while it constantly eludes. I dance and run till tired, then I learn to stand and watch the kiss as it comes and goes. Feet cold and sandy. Feet salty and wet.

We can’t seem to tune into the roar of the distant waves or the whistle of wind beside our cheeks when it’s gusty and the head has its own billowing current. Still, I’m stilling myself. Inside, I sit, and outside.

It’s becoming routine- endings and beginnings, but how it has taken time. Layering on top of one another, and sometimes almost as one.

I like focusing on the thinnest of spaces between, today. That glorious stillness where two sides push up against one another and surrender is there.

The tide has met the shadow, and the sunlight is gone at bay. It’s fall now, or is it? Maybe, let’s stay somewhere in between.