Just as I was falling asleep last night a thunderstorm blew in and shook everything up with long, rolling rumbles of thunder and a few cracks of lightning. The rain was coming down hard enough that Durwood asked if the window was open but since no rain was falling on me, I said no. Okay, I mumbled no. Hey, I was more than half asleep, I thought a mumbled no was a pretty good answer. It must have rained for a while because the rug on the step outside the patio door was totally soaked and spongy (eww!) when I went out to plug in the fountain this morning and the birdbath was full up. Nice that we don't have to water the garden, the flowers, and the raspberries today.
Durwood's deep into researching the places that they lived when they were kids. He's emailing furiously to his brothers, sharing memories, and gathering info. I unearthed a tote for him filled with photos, etc. that his mom kept and I know there's an envelope of letters his dad wrote home with bedtime stories for the boys in there too. What a fabulous fount of memories for them, don't you think? I miss getting a letter from a friend, a real letter with a pretty stamp and real handwriting inside. Emails are nice and immediate, but there's really nothing like having your loved one's words on paper that you can keep and read over and over. Maybe I'll send someone a letter today. Maybe DD, she's far away and I miss her every day.
June 21--Maldives. The barrier reef draws a line in the Indian Ocean separating the calm and bath-water warm inside from the raging deep blue outside. Without man's help, the reef grows in a graceful arc embracing the little bay, leaving a gap just wide enough for two canoes or a well-helmed sailboat to slip through. "You know I hate to jump off into this so-hot water," Sylvie said as Andre pointed the bow of the little schooner at the white sand beach. "Oh, you'll manage, I think," Andre said. "You've been complaining about wanting solid ground under your feet and here I found you some." He shaded his eyes with his hand. "Look down the beach, there's a bar with a hammock. That's where I'm headed." He felt the saliva rise in his mouth. "I could sure go for a beer and maybe a plate of grilled pork and plantains." He was already tasting the food as he dropped anchor in the calm bay, not realizing that it was the last time he'd see both Sylvie and his boat.
Dun-dun-dunnnn. What will happen? Does she sail away once he's onshore? Is he killed? Does someone kidnap her and steal the boat? Beats me. What do you think?
--Barbara
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