Superior’s edges are rough with the end of winter. I was careful walking not sure what was firm and what might be floating.
The Upper Peninsula of Michigan could be Norway but it isn’t. Parts of it are very foreign, other worldly, but fundamental in a scrappy way.
I may have just turned 71 but I want the world to know that if need be I can still fry it up in a pan. Or barbecue. Same difference.
I followed a friend with a flashlight into the woods. She shone the flashlight behind her so I wouldn’t trip, not having thought to bring my own flashlight. And in the woods, we gave a man some dinner. We hugged him and I walked behind her back out to the street, feeling many layers of taking care.
My son left a pie for us on our porch last night. Key lime. My husband said it was an homage to the many years when Good Friday marked the start of our mad dash to the Florida Keys where we would eat piles of shrimp and fat slices of pie and argue about when it was time to go to bed.