I awoke to multiple bright flashings behind my closed eyes. This usually precedes a thunderclap that shakes the building, and with the steel sky beyond the window I thought for sure, “Here it comes,” but all was silent. Adrenaline rush kicked me out of bed, I dressed quickly and went down to the beach and had a good walk with the neighbors. “Reveille” was heard coming from the loudspeakers across the bay, first call to let all on base know they’ve got five minutes to be ready.  Last night at sundown, same scenario, but the men I was with removed their hats, placed them to heart, and stood still while the loudspeakers played the National Anthem. I stood behind these men, each from a different branch of military, thinking about their service. How it was different for the generations in front of me. The parts of the world they’d seen, what they learned, friends they made, how it changed them for better or worse. And hats still to the heart.  It was a moment I wish my mother could have seen.

This morning’s walk started out later than yesterday’s. We were well past reveille and surprise! We managed to walk through Werner’s property without getting wet.  Mike found a green piece of sea glass and a gorgeously striated rock with seaweed and gave them to me. He knows I’ve not had much luck finding green or blue glass. I shall put the rock next to the one I found at the bottom of Arizona, equally gorgeously patterned.  Yesterday’s walk brought so many treasures, though some might wonder how horseshoe crab moultings, spider crab abdomens, and a coconut count as treasure.  Trust me, they do. I realized Mako’s pawprints are already gone, wind blown or washed away, and that set off a day’s worth of writing.

We had the pleasure of seeing the USS New York, San Antonio-class, 21, heading out to sea. If you don’t know why she’s important, please look her up.  We’ll be walking in her boat wake soon, and I’m sure the black ducks will enjoy bobbing.

The weather will be warmer by tomorrow, and I intend to take another whale watch before the air turns truly wintry. More treasures, not just careless high waves but the creatures that feast among them, and I record them here this morning alternating between feeling super-humbled, stupefied, grateful, and happy to be able to receive them.