"I’ve heard about redwoods." Hijohn said. "What are they like?"
"They’re like … guardians. When you’re around them you feel protected. Watched over. They collect fog in their branches, way above your head. People say the spirits of your beloved dead hang out there."
"The Fifth Sacred Thing"
I’m riding that wave- somewhere between determination and exhaustion.
Between treading water and swimming to shore.
Between kicking my feet, and letting the rip tides pull me under.
Somewhere between art and noise;
revelation and overwhelm;
creation and stagnation.
I’m riding that wave. I’m looking at my children in the yard and my plants in the windowsill.
"At least they’re still alive."
At least I’m still alive.
At least I’m realizing that it’s sink or swim. That it’s either time to buck up or shut up.
It’s time to reach for help. To let out a shout and let someone know I am still kicking, just below the surface. That I am still in there somewhere, waiting for a breath of fresh air. A breath of new life.
It’s time to ride that wave back to shore.
From the produce stand.
Squalicum Beach, Bellingham, Washington.
New friends for my windowsill.
Sunset at Squalicum Beach, Bellingham, Washington.
The Boardwalk in Fairhaven, in Bellingham, Washington.