Today was a day to spend a little time with Jessie and August. Jessie is as ripe and queenly as any woman could be. If she did name her child King Richard, or King anything, it would be fitting. She moves as if through water, through sky and grace.
I am overwhelmed to be her mother, to be in her presence.
Oh, he is a clown and a joy and a joker and a singer. He sang us a song today and the lyrics were, "Boppy go? Boppy go? Boppy go? Boppy go?"
I cannot kiss him enough. I cannot hold him enough. I cannot watch him enough.
And with him I have discovered another true love and it still makes my mind reel, my heart burst, because each of my grandchildren has done this and although it makes no sense, it is the truth.
And then this evening, Mr. Moon and I drove to the coast and he bought shrimp and oysters and smoked salmon and mullet to take to Georgia. He bought smoked salmon and shrimp to have here at home, too. I believe that while he is gone I will eat nothing but smoked salmon and rice.
With maybe a green onion or two.
We went to supper at a place on the bay in Panacea, a few blocks down from where I lived when I got pregnant with Hank. The food was underwhelming but it was so much fun to be out with my husband. We hardly ever go out anymore and it's not his fault. It's because I am so loathe to leave my house these days. The very thought of it makes me anxious but I remembered how lovely it can be and I was so glad I went.
Here's what the bay looked like as the sun was setting.
And here is an egret, fishing near the shore as the tide changed.
I know it's only Wednesday but I have to say that so far, it's been a very good week for me. I think that not only have the lower temperatures affected me in a positive way, but also I have taken very good, long walks every morning.
It is one thing to talk the talk but to make it work, you gotta walk the walk.
One would think that I would not have to relearn this lesson over and over again after at least thirty-eight years of pretty much faithfully putting on my shoes and hitting the road, but it would seem that I do. Whether it is because actual physical change occurs in my brain due to exercise or whether I just have a very weird need to feel as if I have pushed my body for at least a few miles to be okay with myself, I do not know. I joke that I have an inborn need to suffer in order to be happy but maybe it's the truth. I have no need to wear a hair shirt or walk on my knees through glass, no need to mortify my flesh, but perhaps I truly do need to sweat a little, to push it a little, to connect with my body from my feet on up to even out my inclination to live in my head.
I don't know.
I don't know shit.
But it was another good day.