I know, she continued, I'll take my library lent copy of The Best American Nonrequired Reading, a gorilla-sized bottle of water, and a striped picnic blanket and escape these feelings of guilt over wasting a day of my life by my own hand.
Then she jumped in the car, drove 26.something miles north and landed at a spot made of forgiveness. Where the birds forgave the rocks and the rocks forgave the sea and the sea forgave the sand and all that was left was a beach made for reflection.
All in a Sunday's work.
3 comments:
ooo, that looks like an amazing place. it's the kind of place to think about when someone, like the dentist, says "okay, now just think about a nice, relaxing place."
please don't get killed by a hangover, I would miss you too much.
Is the rock the bull and you the matador in this situation? Swimming in Louisiana beaches gives you a killer diptheria hangover.
I thought swimming at Louisiana beaches gave you birth defects...
Oh, I slay me. I must be the matador.
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