My mother loves to laugh. Not quips, but ache-with-joy bouts of woman howling. Her giggle is a siren song that ripples out and grabs you.
This is my skyline now and I love it. Mermaids hang out here.
Last Saturday at the lighthouse the morning tide had almost engulfed the jetty. I prefer high tide, the way it moves, breathes, slinks up the shoreline to greet and warn you. The ocean is a beautiful treachery.