Then we were up in the air, out over the water. No higher above the bay, I swear, than my 21st story apartment above the dinge of Philadelphia. So low you could practically smell it. Someone said there might be whales out there, and sure enough I saw a humpback, a long, brown island poised between two whale watch boats, as if three vehicles were conspiring on the performance. Then the golden hook of Long Point, studded with pine. Then the little strip of bleached asphalt. Down, down, bump of wheel on airstrip, plane jerks to one side, gets on track again, forward, slower, round the corner to the terminal, where my old friends Polly and Oren happened to be inside--and maybe I was just dreaming this, after having been up all night--but I swear they said, yay!
(More soon--I apologize for the dearth of posts. I've been writing a lot, which feels like the right thing right now.)