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May 15, 2014
I step out feeling the lift of the light wood, the fluid touch of the pad of foot against the seat board, the light boat moving away as I step onto the sand. No, I am not thinking about that other thing. I have learned that is not a good place to go. It is too much like stepping into the tornado that growls around my house too much the chill in the air that signals that all things may not be as safe as they had seemed to be. I am drifting out into the mist over the lake