It's June, and while Portland weather belies the approach of summer, indeed the solstice is mere days away. As I walked this morning with Nicholai, Kelley, and Tim – now finished with the third grade – we were under a blanket of gray, and clouds reached down from the sky with thready fingers wrapping mist and fog around the trees. Of course, we had on wool socks and raincoats, it felt like the approach of autumn, and of course we got poured on.
Somehow, some way, we were all cheerful in spite of it. Tim sang a song we've sung for years now – "I love Nicholai, yes I do …" to each of us and reminisced on the many times we've walked this way before. Nicholai and Kelley ran and sniffed, enjoying every little sight and scent, as if they'd never experienced them before. I sang back to Tim, we remarked on changes in the trail and the water levels, and remembered previous jaunts to this neck of the woods.
Not sure why I continue to be happy in an objectively depressing environment; perhaps because each day, I am reminded to stay with that single day; to walk the walk of that day alone. Each day of late, I say a prayer for the ocean which quickly becomes a prayer for us all. The ties that bind us together seem so obvious – oil spill, environmental degradation, petroleum products linked with cancer, cancer in my dog, my sister, my friend.
Facing devastation can overwhelm. Focusing on each day helps me stay hopeful, feel powerful, and remember why I care.
"I love my Nicholai, oh yes I do. I love my Nicholai, and I'll be true. When he's not with me, I'm very blue. Oh Nicholai, I love you."
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