its a wednesday morning. the twenty-fifth day of june, to be exact, although, from where i sit, it doesn't seem to matter. from where i sit i can see no calendars with all their restrictive straight lines. from where i sit i see no record of days and their demands. i'm just sitting here soaking in the salty air and staring off at how the curvy sand slides down slowly to the edge of water. i'm just sitting here. occasionally, i take a sip of my third mug of coffee. i'm not particularly worried about where i am on any map or calendar. i'm much more interested in those flirty dolphins out there in that cold cold water, playing their wet game of hide and seek with the sun. i'm much more interested in the sound of dancing waves, punctuated by gulls and other quick little birds, singing their tiny little hearts out. i'm much more interested in the way the blue-lavendar of all this hydrangea stands out against the backdrop of wheat colored sand.--
yes, i'm on vacation. in cape may, new jersey. and i am enjoying it immensely. its been bike rides and lighthouses; coffee and pancakes; sandcastles and seashells; frisbee and football; hamburgers and hotdogs; downtown walks and west side shopping; coldplay and the juno soundtrack; crossword puzzles and catching up on my magazines. its been brilliant.
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and the calendar is apparently telling me that its only about half-over. there are birds yet to hear! dolphins yet to watch, the sun catching their muscle-smooth grey bodies. there are sips yet to take, castles yet to build, and memories yet to be made. there is still sand waiting to surround my toes in surface warmth, then, deeper, in a wet, earthy kind of cool. the world is exploding with God's creativity out here on the edges, and, from where i sit, it seems that i've still got time to fall in love with it.
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grace and peace,
greg.
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