JOURNAL: On Fire Island, June 27, 2006

It's 6:10 on a breezy, clear evening in the island village of Lonelyville, NY (a few miles off Bay Shore, Long Island). I arrived via the Bay Shore ferry about noon, and Cat (my sister) and her sons (Gabriel and Joaquin) and I have had a perfectly gorgeous summer afternoon together. After several days of soaking rain, the skies cleared off so we were able to enjoy the sunshine on the bay side of the island. (The ocean side was windy and wild, with red flags flying as warnings to swimmers.) Cat and I sat together and talked for several hours -- a little chit-chat, sure, but also a great amount of serious, thoughtful conversation about substantial matters, as we like to do. While we talked, the boys frolicked with their friends in the calm waters of the bay. Now, after a comforting outdoor shower (one of the true rewards of visiting Fire Island), I'm typing this paragraph on the deck of our comfortable cabin. The surf is pounding the beach just over the dunes, but all is serene back here at the cabin. A cool breeze is drifting through the trees, the evening sun is floating low in the west, and a few birds are whistling here and there. It's a good time to type, to think good thoughts, to feel completely content.