The ferry ride begins the transition from life to summer. From there to here. I leave behind the schedule, the emails, the news, the corporate coffee cup and the noise. Here I listen. The waves lap the shore. The wind sings between the screens. The foghorn recites its steady presence. Here I think. I remember. I vow to bring the serenity of here to there. Judgement is saved for picking out fruit instead of for criticizing the choices of others. Here I squish my toes in the sand and stare at the sunset, hoping that I remember my blessings on a rainy Tuesday when I hurt like hell. Here I laugh. I laugh so hard that I develop muscles in my stomach. Well, maybe I feel them working...still waiting for evidence that they are in fact developing. Here I get my first pet from the first boyfriend that I bring here. Yes, the pet is a pillow. His name is The General (the pillow that is). But nonetheless, a first for both. Here I sing to my niece while she smiles in her dreams. This is her first time here. I can tell she loves it already. Here I cry. Growing up is painful and inevitable and fulfilling and rewarding. Coming here every year gives each memory a poignant spot on my timeline. Sitting together here, we share these memories while we laugh, love, cry, smile, grow and listen. My family is here. My friends are here. I am here.
