On a Roll

So far, today has been delicious. I got my kayak out for the first time in almost a year. I injured a shoulder in February, and it has continued to be painful ever since. Despite that, I hauled my boat on and off the van and into the water with minimal help, and felt fine paddling. It was perfect paddling conditions in the bay...warm and smooth and still. I put in at Marine Park and paddled south past herons and eagles and the occasional school of fish to Teddy Bear Cove. I was hoping to see a hooded nudibranch in the eelgrass. I'm sure they were there, but I didn't see any. I love being on the water. It is such a strange thing to ride on the sloping shoulders of a heaving, teeming, thoroughly inhuman world. Sometimes the surface deflects my curious gaze like a mirror, then a swell rises in front of me and as it slopes upward I can see right through, as if there were no barrier at all. It is hypnotic and rhythmic and seductive. I'm scared to death of it sometimes. An acquaintance died in that water this year, on a sunny day, paddling with a friend.

Now I am alone, a very rare treat. My husband and kids are all at the theater. I could listen to loud music and dance...I could veg in front of something really worthless on the tube (I never do that, but I miss it occasionally)...I could bake something celebratory for my two little actors who are performing at said theater...I could sleep...I could draw or paint.... Whatever I'm going to do, I'm not telling you!