Of Sand and Fog

I ran away from home.

Well, my home.  My parents are out of town and graciously allowed me the use of their place.  The plan was to come here, do some writing, run on the beach, and figure out what the heck I’m doing with my life.

What happened was:  I got here, ate every last bit of chocolate that was in the house, watched old movies, stood on the balcony and took pictures of the sunrise, took a bath in the big garden tub, played with the cat, and talked with friends on the phone.  No writing. No epiphanies – other than I have no discipline when it comes to Hershey’s Chocolate Kisses and that I don’t like being alone.  Hmm…

So, I’m heading back home today a couple of pounds heavier and absolutely no closer to getting the book finished.

Something about the crashing of the waves on the shore, though, has washed away some sadness in me. I may not know yet where I’m going from here, but I see clearly now where I’ve been.

Caspar David Friedrich, Monk by the Sea, c. 1809, oil on canvas, 43" x 67 1/2" / 110 x 171.5 cm (Nationalgalerie, Staatliche Museen, Berlin)

Caspar David Friedrich, Monk by the Sea, c. 1809, oil on canvas, 43″ x 67 1/2″ / 110 x 171.5 cm (Nationalgalerie, Staatliche Museen, Berlin)

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