#ohiowa in Michigan

We just got home from Michigan.
We wore nothing but bathing suits with bare feet for days, and spent considerable time just staring at a large body of water.  We needed to keep an eye on the kids, but it sure was easy to get lost in the tiny glittering whitecaps that break rhythmically along the edge.
We watched the horizon, too. Mercy. The sun climbed over that lake in the morning spilling through the light blue tinge of day like a yolk, bringing promise. And at night people lined up along the front deck ready for the setting ceremony, flames of gold and lavender bringing peace.
Actually, putting the children to bed brought peace. But the sunset brought some too.

We played board games past midnight, and picked blackberries to toss with granola in yogurt a few hours later.
We huddled around tables inside and out, sewing and sipping coffee, doing science experiments and drinking beer.
We had squirt gun battles and water balloon fights, took bike rides and paddle boarding lessons from little people, and we made s'mores and ice cream sundaes all week.
And that feeling that so many of us get, the one where time breathes menacingly down our necks, went away for a little while. All the to-dos evaporated and instead hours stretched and pooled luxuriously around us, full of promise, full of peace.

Years past, on Lake Michigan:
to wandering
high hearts
pure
in the mitten