Anywhere Like Heaven

C cathead firepit C cathead windy C cathead morning C cathead birds water you pic cathead bay Cathead Bay Michigan panoramic roadtrip cathead bay

I have a friend who lives in summertime along this hidden stretch of heaven.

Wind dances across the bay bringing constant change to a view and I could watch for days. When I visit, I rise up with the sun-a thing that does not happen naturally in my own suburban home. Too much interference from buildings, traffic, and electrical gadgets that make cities go…it keeps the ancient call to rise buried beneath the noise.

Out here though, on Cathead Bay, it’s just me and the wind. Me and the sky. Me and the water. Me and the stars. Me and the thoughts I can’t hear when I’m in my noisy world. Me and the friends that welcome me in to their little bit of heaven.

Thank you, Patty, for letting me know this Northern Michigan treasure hidden from the world and for your long friendship. I am grateful.



Halfway There


Saying goodbye with only distant plans for reunion makes the empty new morning swallow you whole.

On rising we are required to remember our person is no longer in our daily world. Like the thousand times we reach for a phone to call parents with a question or to share news before it hits us that they have both been dead over a decade now. So much a part of who we are; a limb, a vital organ; stunned that we live on without them.

The letting go is like pushing off from shore and swimming into open-ocean towards a destination out of sight. Do we put some effort in and try to get there faster or pace ourselves in case it’s farther than imagined? The thing is, with every passing moment we know we’re getting closer. The starting place is behind us now; the day we said goodbye. And every day a little grief weight drops and bit by bit – lightness takes its place. Before we know it, we’re half way there. Closer by the day to being home than we were yesterday and that’s a good thing. A hopeful thing. And on the day we decide to make plans again clouds disappear and joy rises like crocus up from March snow.

We’re halfway there. See you soon.