Our last week at the beach house is always a bummer -- all the guests are gone, we're as tan as we're going to get, we have to limit our purchases at the farmers' market, and so on. We all know the end is coming, but we refuse to address it or even think about returning to reality.
A couple days ago it was gloomy and gray with no end in sight. Dull skies, uninspiring light, the kind of day best spent reading and falling in and out of hazy sleep (read: I borrowed my sister's sleeping mask and stayed in my pajamas until five o'clock).
As the evening went on, the sky became filled with more and more clouds until finally at sunset, we were surrounded by hot pink skies. We finshed our dinner in a rush and ran outside to sit on the dock and marvel. We stayed there until dark, riding bikes around the island and soaking up every ounce of the intoxicating salty air.
Whenever I need to go to a happy place in my head, this is what I envision. It's amazing what open spaces and pink skies can do for the soul.