August 14

A risk, a hope, a caught-only-partway-prepared sort of plan.

I love planning,

but perhaps a little too much.

I must remember that planning is everything – but the plan is nothing.

Dance on waves, see my path before me then surf there.

There is a fundamental difference between ‘let’s see where we wind up’ and ‘let’s aim thataway’. I can’t grab the wheel and I don’t want to manipulate the steerer.

And so, we share the wheel and the duties of navigation – doing them so very differently from one another. How many years will this one take? Sharing? My whole life? Oy.

Better pack along a lantern, then, and some hardtack.

Has anyone, ever, in the history of sea travel, liked hardtack? Didn’t think so. Ah. That explains the rum.

Me, I’ll stick to lemons and limes and kumquats and oranges and blueberries and strawberries and raspberries and blackberries and black raspberries and goldberries.

I had a notion to knit a tunic in honor of Goldberry once. I have very special stitch markers to help me. Still waiting. I think I get to have my own celebration and my own ceremonies. I think that I will think about making that tunic again.

I think that I will think? Well, one can only hope.

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