My childhood revolved a great deal around boats.  When I was in third grade, my father built our first boat in our garage.  I loved to watch him work.

We launched our first boat ride on the Des Moines River, and then Clear Lake in Iowa.  When we moved to a house on the Mississippi River, we had a boat dock in front of the house.  Living in Florida, we went boating almost every day.  Then, living in San Diego, boating was also a big part of our lives.

Now, a boat ride for me is taking the ferry to San Francisco, which of course I wouldn’t do right now, so I’m on land, and yet, these days, living on land seems to present a variety of emotional waves.

One day, I’m calm, grateful to be home, and another day, I rail at what feels like confinement.  These days the waves are simply my own moods and responses as I navigate what comes.

Again, this morning my yard is filled with a symphony of birds tweeting, as the fog sits on the ridge, undecided in this moment, whether to move in or out.  

I, though, am decided that this is a day to clean house, the physical abode, and the inner crevices and crannies where doubt and fear might think they can hang out, but instead will be wiped out, which takes me to 1963 and the song Wipe Out. Okay, I’m inspired to begin.

In the Curl of the Wave

June fog considering whether to move in or out!

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