Winds of Reunion

It is windy but warm. We are gathered at an ocean-aqua picnic table by the river, eating Maryland blue crab in all its forms:  steamed and baked and cradled in sauce, the nip of Old Bay still bringing me home. I gaze down the line at the faces of my life — college friends who haven’t collected in this way for twenty years, my husband harboring the new life I’ve built far away, and the daughter who was born near this slow water but whisked away before she could fall under its murky spell.

The conversation blows in all directions, no one directs it, no one shuts the door. We overlook the marina under a cloudless sky, pushing back the looming front of responsibility, loosely moored to our timeless love for one another, knowing that after this banquet of the past and present, we must untie the memories and sail off into choppy waters.

To all of you, have a memorable holiday weekend.

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