For the last two weekends in a row, we have had stolen time on the island. Long, slow, meandering days, waking to the sun that hits our eastern-facing windows. The little girl and I have taken to walking the beach into town, which is three and a half miles. Each time we go, a different discovery. A broken boat, tangled in the roots of one of the trees that fell from the cliff. A chunk of black rock that fascinated us both and appears to be a meteorite stone. We end each walk with ice cream in town.
Sunday was the day I began my pivot. I graduated, formerly, on May 10th from Emerson College. I now have an MFA in Writing for Film and Television. The week after the formal, final steps, I slept twelve to fifteen hours a day. I just barely finished my actual work, I just barely managed to throw things in lunch boxes and trudge to school. I am weary.
This weekend was the changeover. In my Hobonichi planner, I have all the things that must be done, and I am doing my best to get them done each day. I will keep a schedule. I will begin the job hunt. I will study for the GRE and the next step in my process.
I turn 50 on June 13th. Fittingly, on a Friday, I was born on a Friday. This summer unfolds, and it is extraordinary. I will be in France most of July with my friends Sonia and Juliette. This means working my two remote jobs at night, but who is to argue? It is the only time I could possibly do this, while I am at two jobs that are not quite full time enough for all the bills. I'd best enjoy the flexiblity.
The summer has come. The little girl found a foundling bedraggled little crow in the winter and fed it peanuts and seeds all winter and named her Juliette. In the spring, our little Juliette*, disappeared. We mourned her. She returned with her own little daffy fledgling, a fluffy, bossy little thing we named Lolita. Joining them is Shiro, who is standoffish but very protective, and Stargazer, who is the lookout and shouts when we have out snacks. The birds are so very clever and when the dog grizzles that birds are being fed instead of dogs, they throw her bits of what they are eating so she can share.
I just delight. My little dog, the Lu, is a vintage 2011 and may not be around much longer. But her surly little ways, and her sassiness towards crows (and their response) just tickles me to death. The Little Girl flourishes. She is a born naturalist and ardant biologist. A beach walk with her is a continued examination of tide pools. I feel a great amount of stress and anxiety for the world at large and the pressures in my own life, but in these moments, with the crows, or on the beach, or my little dog, I find that I cannot help but be happy.
*Named after our French friend
I should have fought more
6/6 '25
