We're halfway through the quiet side of summer, just six Fridays from the rush of the school year.
We woke with the birds on Saturday, driving towards the sunrise -- the reason we live in New Jersey, we said. The beach was quiet when we arrived, only surfers and fishermen. I walked through the surf, sending a silent prayer back out with the tide. We watched the sun drift higher and mused about what next summer, or the one after might be like.
I catch myself too often spending all my days wondering about next, never quite focusing on what this summer is -- a fresh bunch of peonies each week, wine from weekend travels, early mornings, prayers sent up to pink evening skies, frankincense and neroli diffusing, a whole lot of grace.
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