Haley's birthday came, and we went to the mountains of Index, Washington. There our bones were warmed by whiskey and we whooped along to Paul Simon,

She moved so easily all I could think of was sunlight...

there was an open air hot tub surrounded by cedar slats down by the water, and every few hours we folded our tired bodies back into it and made merry or serious celebrations of faith under the cool air and near-full moon. at night we pooled out in sleep onto the floor, blankets and limbs crossing.

as we crossed train tracks and climbed over moss higher and higher, gasping at the view over the mountains, it occurred to me that my life is here, now.

back in the city, Tim and I ate gyros swiftly together and I bolted my way through one night of work where everyone was somehow cheery and not irritable. then i was off to an island.

the trip to Anacortes and then to Orcas was full of characters and i was very much in my head and not feeling social but i was noticing everything. there was the woman on the 8 bus who prayed quietly and crossed herself over and over. and there was the man on my shuttle who looked like he was a frat boy but spoke at length on the phone of working on tea plantations outside Taipei. and there was the tattooed and pierced gentleman in the Anacortes Ferry Terminal who was just so good at his job, attentive to every customer and anticipating the individual needs of their crappy pre-made sandwiches and self-serve coffee. and there was Inez the driver of the smaller shuttle from Burlington to Anacortes who complained nonstop about hitchhikers and traffic and proudly displayed photos of grandchildren on her dashboard along with a hand-scrawled TIPPING DRIVERS FOR GOOD SERVICE IS APPRECIATED sign.

once on the island i was down the intoxicating rabbit hole of the love of good women and cozy cabins and rural space. i was swept away to the library, then to a dinner of root vegetables, then to a gin cocktail, then to a low-tide beach of squirting clams, then to a warm bed and several hours of cat conversation. the next day was wanders from water to woods to small town to water, bread cheese vegetable wine soul-friends, self-help books, riding three to the front of the truck, restless sleep because of the full moon.

i wish you could just live in my room, said maura.
sometimes you are reading a self-help book for you and sometimes for someone else, she said. yeah, i know why i'm reading them, i said, but i'm trying not to meddle.
i slept terribly, i said. oh me too, and ali too, she said. i think it's the full moon.

we brought a ring, gifted to us by ken, to a rocky beach with a view of mt. baker. it says "right on" and it fits on my thumb. when he gave it to maura he said when you're with sarah throw it in the pacific ocean take pictures and send them to me. we took pictures of the ring in all different places on the rocks and in the water and then one of it being tossed and we will send them soon.

i have had a very special healing time this week but it also made me restless and a lot of things pop into my head and while i have been feeling like rural space is what's next for me i wonder if it is the cleanse i need or if it would make me go crazy. is the city distracting me from my own clearing out and healing or do i need the city to heal and these little chunks are enough. i don't know. but i wouldn't leave for a while anyway.

walking down a fir avenue in pitch black you are forced face to face with all your demons, that's for sure. and sitting quietly on rocks by crashing water, you confront and then release.