I offer you, without fanfare or surprise, another view of the beach. I have been drifting as of late, perhaps obvious in my absence of daily posts. The days are passing and I am having trouble accounting for them. Wake up, breakfast. Help the tomatoes, eat lunch. Sweep something, tidy something, weed something, paint something. Swim in the pool. Set the table, dinner, a walk. Back to my little house, back to sleep. Blurry dreams, awake again.

This is not a complaint. I love it here. But my previously formed, complete thoughts feel as though they are shrouded in a fog. Is it my resistance to acknowledge the countdown upon me? The threat of "reality" looming so close? My total and complete familiarity and comfort level here? I cannot say.

And so we go to the beach one morning. We talk, we read, we sleep, we watch. Its peaceful with Clara and I savor these moments. I don't feel entitled to them at all, but they're there for me to take. So I take them. And I keep wondering and wandering. And then another day passes. Coming and going like the sea.