Beachcombing While I Wait for My Pen

This is the tree I will try to draw when my new pen comes.

Meanwhile, I will tell you about the boat that ran aground somehow on the giant rocks that border part of the Lake Michigan shoreline in our town.

The boat -a fairly large pleasure boat, what we used to call a cabin cruiser – first showed up in mid-summer. Passers-by figured it had run out of gas and the waves brought it to shore. No owner was in sight. As the days and weeks passed, we assumed the owner was arranging a tow. Getting the boat off the rocks seemed like a dicey proposition but still, wouldn’t you retrieve that boat if it was yours?

When fall came, the talk turned to the County taking responsibility. After all, this is County land, precious land at that, and the boat is an eyesore. Except it isn’t. When it became clear that the County wasn’t making a move to remove the boat, folks gave the boat a name, the SS Minnow (sound familiar?) and when Christmas rolled around, someone hung a wreath and strung garlands and lights all along the bow. It became the cutest shipwreck ever.

So, this afternoon, I went walking along the shore because I wanted to see the boat up close but, also, I wanted to mull over the delightful dinner we’d had last night with my grandson and his partner. Earlier in his life, my grandson had been my granddaughter. I won’t say this transition has been difficult for me, but it’s not nothin’. My goal is to chalk up good interactions where, if I don’t exactly get it right, I don’t get it horribly wrong. Last night was a mark in the okay column. I just sent him a picture of the boat I talked about last night.

I also wanted my walk to wash off a discouraging text last night, one that pulled me back to Al-Anon’s Three C’s – I didn’t cause it, I can’t control it, and I can’t cure it. If you get into a good walking rhythm, these three statements hold a good beat. I know that for a fact.

Meanwhile, I wait for my new pen.