Sunday, May 19, 2013

Story-A-Day May... slowing, but still going.

A week of being terribly sick has left me behind again. What to do?

 Jump in and stop worrying about what I didn't finish (four stories with no ending) and get into it NOW.

Summer land of WNY

 In a breeze from the lake, you can smell five things, or six, or seven. Lake Erie's beaches carry the scent of fish, of smoke, of seaweed (or lake weed, to be specific), of rotting logs, of clean-washed air, of baking sand, and the coconut scent of tanned teenagers sweating in the sun, displaying their golden greased curves to each other in hopes of hooking up around the bonfire later.

 Looking out from the edge is similar to looking at the ocean. It seems every bit as endless, but the weight of water you feel as you stare is less. In first morning sunlight, an unbroken wall of white gold shimmers too brightly to take for long; no visible division of sky and water exists. I have seen the Atlantic, and two of the Great Lakes-- the lakes are still stunning.

 There is a lovely coastal feel to the areas around the lakes, as well-- people buy cottages and spend two or even three seasons there, where the living is simpler and time has its own lake-set pace. You may have to get up early and drive in to town to work the next day, but if the stars are beautiful and the grill is going, it isn't bedtime yet. When you do lay head to pillow, you'll sleep the sound sleep of the profoundly grateful, hearing nothing but your own breath and the soft crick of a window somewhere, moving slightly as it holds against the low wind off the water. The waves are felt rather than heard, a rich slow hum that soothes and protects your dreams. Heroically tall pines sway and open onto a living darkness of indigo sky.

© By Mari Kozlowski, May 19, 2013

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