Day of Rest


“Starting here, what do you want to remember?” ~ the first line from William Stafford’s poem You Reading This, Be Ready

I want to remember the way the sun came out on a day it was supposed to rain, the way the sun rising that one morning turned the clouds pink and the ocean a particular shade of green blue, the clutch of tiny sparrows all flying in unison over the water and how when they turned together the sun hit their shiny bellies and turned the black cloud of them into stars, how the wind sounded like someone whistling so the dogs ran outside to see who it was, seeing the humming bird again by the tree outside our window, the way marionberries taste, the feel of walking into our bedroom in the early afternoon with the wind blowing in the window and the light a particular color that makes the world feel so quiet and calm, the taste of a real maple bar made by someone who knows what they are doing, the quiet dark of morning and the smell of Eric’s coffee, how warm the dogs bodies are when they sleep curled up, the sound of their sighs, the specific way their nails click on the floor, how sad Eric and I both feel when Ringo won’t finish his breakfast, all the sand fleas he eats and the holes he digs, the way Sam runs back into bed after he eats breakfast so happy to sleep in with me, the awful almost scream he makes when he gets too close to a seagull, all the rocks we found on the beach that one morning, how it was so nice we didn’t want to stop walking, my cough that wouldn’t go away, eating the best pancakes we’ve ever had, how hard Eric laughed at something I said that I can’t even remember now, the taste of the German Chocolate Cake my cousin made me, how taking a wrong turn took me right past my grandma’s farm which isn’t her farm anymore but will always be hers, my dreams that fade almost as soon as I wake up, the smell of the beach, sitting down to eat with family, the taste of real Oregon strawberries, having to take turns whipping the cream with a whisk because that’s all we had, picking out vegetables at the farmer’s market, how easy the trip here was, reading together in bed at night, that time I woke up in the middle of the night and saw the big dipper perfectly framed in our window but I didn’t wake him up to look and when I told him about it later he said, “next time, wake me up.”

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