"I like it when you call me 'dear'."
Right at sunset, Donna and I walked the length of Good Harbor. We were virtually the only ones on the beach as the sky lost light and it became dark. After finding a sandcastle, when we found the wrackline the sand was hard enough of a surface to walk on and she briskly quickened her pace and followed the ocean asking if she should put her feet in the water. I told her that when we kiss the only thing that she would hear would be the sound of the waves. I began saying that it was a nice way to end a summer during which we had spent every night together alone in a fairly small highrise apartment, there with the horizon and with the beach empty of other people. We've spent two days with the view of the beach during the day, which is a vast expanse, so to walk it at night was a fitting way to begin Autumn and any Indian Summer that might be coming. To begin June, our first night together had been spent getting a taxi across the parking lot during a thunder and lightning storm and since then I've spent every night looking at the Boston skyline from the ninth floor of her apartment. When I mentioned that it was a romantic way to end the summer, a blast of warm air came off the water. At One am she described it, "It came out of nowhere." Actually, she may see it as a religious act, an act of God or a sign from God.
The painting of Winslow Homer I could study further and more intently.
