— Green. Everything in Rhode Island is a lush lush green. The trees meet over the roads, creating a long green canopy.
— Grey skies and fog.
— Green and grey. My favorite combination in nature. (Tell me my heritage isn’t Irish.)
— My aunt Regina and my cousin Emma drove to my parents for a visit. Emma showed us her pictures from her prom. She wore a lavendar shiny dress and looked absolutely spectacular. My tomboy cousin, who usually dresses like an urban youth, an urban youth about to become a rap star – bandana wrapped around her head, huge puffy parka, and glittery sunglasses — Emma looks like a ghetto rapper who has a freckled Irish face and rosy cheeks. Emma is a trip. I said to her, “Emma, it’s just that you have a 45 year old soul, and you happen to be in high school.” Emma nodded seriously. She knows it is true. I said, “You will catch up with your own soul. But for now: you have to hang out with other 15 year olds, and pretend that you guys are the same age.” Emma murmured, “Yeah. It sucks.”
— My mom and I walked the sea wall. It was a grey day, with long grey swells coming in. Over in Newport, across the bay, we could see the surf crashing on the rocks. It’s a couple miles away, so we could only imagine how huge the surf was. There was a teeny slit of sunlight coming through the grey, beaming down on that Newport shore… which is why the surf gleamed like that.
— The air was chilly the whole weekend. Freezing. Not like Memorial Day at all. We all sat around in the living room wrapped up in fleece blankets.
— My father gardened so diligently that he literally could not move the next day. My father’s garden is a work of art.
— Had a late lunch at the Ocean Mist with my sister Jean. The Ocean Mist is a big rickety shack on stilts, standing on the sand. When the tide is high, the waves roll right under the bar. Jean has said, “Someday, that shack is going to slide off into the ocean.” But for now, it’s a great place to hang out. We sat at the bar and ate burgers. Jean told me about her experience taking her class to Alton Jones (part of the URI campus … which hosts local high school and grade school classes to come spend the weekend, and go on nature hikes, learn about animal tracks and constellations.) I went to Alton Jones myself, in grade school. Jean was telling me about her junior high kids, and how they succumbed to the experience. Some of the other groups kept wise-cracking through the whole thing, and kept getting in trouble, and wouldn’t work together as a team, but her group totally got into it. She was very proud of them. Jean’s stories about teaching make me cry. I was shedding tears at the Ocean Mist, like a pathetic lunatic.
— Went out to Mews (a notorious tavern in Wakefield) with Beth and Regina, friends from high school. It was awesome. I love the Mews. We talked nonstop.
— I slept until 10 am every day. Sometimes 11 am. I also took naps. This is absolutely unheard of in the lexicon of Sheila. I do not take naps, and I only need 5 hours of sleep a night. Well, this weekend, I literally could not get enough sleep. I was in a stupor.
— I drove down to the beach by myself my first night home. It was windy, cold, drizzly. The surf was crazy. There were little people in black wetsuits bobbing up and down far out, waiting for the perfect wave. I was wearing my father’s rain parka. I sat on the end of the sea wall, by the clam shack (not open yet), and watched the water. The greyness of the waves, the tumultuous white-water, churning against the rocks. I just watch the water and let my mind go blank. It is one of the most relaxing things in the world.
— Sunday night, Beth and I met at Mere’s. We hung out in Mere’s living room, drinking wine, eating bread and cheese, and laughing like maniacs. Calvin, Mere’s son, showed us his karate uniform. Calvin is a black-belt. He is very very proud, as well he should be. Very into his accomplishments. Showing us the program from his graduation, and the pictures of him in karate class. Mere is now taking karate. She’s such a bad-ass! I do not know who I would be without those two women. We have been friends for so long. Junior high was when it all began. They KNOW me. It is so easy being with them. And also: still challenging, and thought-provoking, and hilarious, and fun.
— Took a walk down to Potter’s Pond. I sprayed myself with Off, because I fear the deer tick. I saw a mallard couple, swimming around peacefully. The birds in the trees were shrieking like maniacs … they were LOUD.
— Jean and I drove around, listening to Eminem (of course), with Hudson panting in the back seat.
— We drove by the house Jean will be moving into next month. It is adorable!! It’s not finished yet, so we stalked around on the periphery, peering through the windows, setting up her furniture theoretically. There was a very very VERY bold male duck who approached us as we were doing this. He had no shyness. No fear. He was huge. He was quacking incessantly. He came right up to us, quacking, on his big orange feet, staring up at us. Jean and I were like: “Uh … hi there … what is up with you?” He followed us around … at one point we got ahead of him, when we walked around the corner of the house. I turned around and saw the duck RUNNING to catch up with us. He was RUNNING. And quacking the whole time. Then, Hudson, sitting in the back seat of the car, saw the duck, and strained his neck out the window. The duck skittered away. Suddenly silent. No more quacking. A couple of tense moments passed, as we watched the duck waddle away, trying to maintain his dignity. Then Jean and I heard two very small subdued quacks. We burst into laughter. They literally had the sound of terrified defiance, like: “I’m not afraid of that dog … I can still quack … Listen to this…” (Then, two teeny tiny scared little quacks.)
— I took the bus back yesterday morning. The bus left at 6:15 am. So my dear dear mother woke me up at 5 a.m. We drove up to Bess Eaton and got some coffee. The fog was very heavy. Visibility was quite low. Nobody was awake. The whole world was covered in fog. But you could sort of see the greenness through that heavy grey. Mum had to drop me off at the deserted bus stop, so I just stood there, on the empty sidewalk … staring up and down the street … feeling like I was going to die from the beauty. Everything was hushed, muffled. It was so early in the morning. You could not see more than a block down the street because of the fog. There wasn’t even any bird song yet. It was poetry. Total poetry.
