my sister and cool breezes
day 6: 100 days
There are three extra children and two extra adults sleeping in our motorhome tonight. All smushed in corners and on tables turned into beds. The dog is delighted. She likes to feel like she’s a part of a pack. The weekend heat advisory meant that my feelings of embarrassment at having brought an RV to a mostly tent camping party have now evaporated along with our ability to think thoughts or care about anything really at all. Heat will do that to you. 96, but feels like 108 degrees is what the phone told us.
Even with the sweltering, I couldn’t go all the way into the lake today. Everyone else was having a blast, but I could only go up to my knees. I just stood there and watched. I guess I’m not cut out for water where you can’t see the bottom.
The marsh grass was slipping around my legs, and something dark kept floating by — was it a stick? I don’t know! Because I couldn’t see anything! It made me miss the always-moving, freezing cold, dark green, sometimes black of the Pacific — of my Puget Sound.
I’m going to drive back now to the filled-to-the-brim motorhome, with the snoring fathers, and the whispering kiddos, and I’ll probably imagine I’m back in Washington on the ferry with my sister heading to the San Juan Islands watching the water, always such a beautiful shade of green, so dark and cool and clean. Tonight I’ll think of my sister and cool breezes.
