We slept at my parents’ house last night.
I needed to get away from this lethargic heat.
A respite from my own clutter, and colors, and space. It’s like a bed and breakfast here. Pretty, well appointed rooms with views of the sea, and a full English breakfast from my dad. We walked to the river and the beach where I collected stones and wildflowers and convinced my boys a dragon lived in the hillside. I painted, discovered a hummingbird haven, and listened to my mother’s stories from when she was a girl. We were invited to blackberry pick in her neighbor’s secret garden. Among moon flowers and spider webs we purpled our fingers and snagged our sleeves. To an ever constant sound of the waves the rhythm of life is sung here. As my mom says, “Life is rich.”