a wilder frame of mind

first off, i have a link for you. above. lighthouses amid storms at sea. lovely music. wildly beautiful video. go get an iced tea then sit down and click on the link. enjoy.

i have been very down lately. afraid. tired. worried. i fell off the grief tilt a whirl. i want him back so badly, to touch him, to caress his face, and hear his voice. i want to approach him gently, eyes meeting eyes, and softly kiss his lips so i can both hear and feel him make that sound he always did when i approached him like that. his whole body would go still. his voice was deep, almost guttural at times, and when i barely separated our lips, he would deeply sigh. being with him was as much a spiritual experience as a physical one.

but i need to pull myself up and out of this. i am alone so much that there is no one to check on me to see if i am getting better. and my poor daughter, i cannot wallow as i have been. so from out of despair to melancholy with a hand up to wistful, i want to show you my island and try to briefly explain why it called to us, and to me now.

see it out there? it's not far. you can swim to it if you want to. the ocean gets up to about 48 degrees out there by the close of summer. you can make it. i suggest Crisco under a wet suit. it worked for us. we went at low tide so the current wasn't as bad. i could not take the camera though but, hell, just being out there was what i imagine i'd feel like walking into the Sistine Chapel.

if you put your back to the mainland, all you see is water and sky. you can lift your arms and smell nothing but salt and fresh air. i'm sure at times you can smell dead skates and crabs that the gulls eat. i don't want to romanticize the place. it's an island.
but you can see forever. the old keeper's house is a fixer upper, falling down, but we, well, i am a hard worker.
there is only one place where a boat can dock so we can, i can, know when someone is coming to call. and dogs. i'd have my Carmen Sophia and Scootie Wootums, but i'd also have a couple of big, scary dogs who would patrol the island like my own lovely hound of the Baskervilles.
all the weather hits out there first. the first breeze. the first hint of snow. the first rays of warmth from a morning sun. it all hits out there first. me first. me first. very preschool but i have never been a first in line kind of person. so, on the island, simply because of the grace of geography, it would be me first.
me and my Dragon. my Dragon and me. a couple. a pair. two halves of a whole. just because you cannot see him doesn't mean he isn't there.