If you’re staring out to sea, you might miss the harbor seals hauling out on the island. They blend in, until your eyes adjust. They’re wary, until and unless you approach their habitat with a quiet reverence. Then, and only then, you’ll notice the harbor seal pup, propelling its bulky form across the rocks at mid-tide.
It rests for a while on a silky patch of surf grass–a nap mat that expands and contracts with the tides.
Mammal and mammal, you breathe together the salty mist, watching and learning from each other. In that moment–or maybe later, when you’ve had time to reflect–you realize just how sacred and special these encounters really are. And that’s when your stories begin to take shape.
All that to say: I’m turning the page on the book I’d originally planned to write about Freckles. I’m not yet sure how this new chapter might unfold, but I’m ready to go exploring…