Monday in Holy Week

Bench-sitting on East Beach Drive.

Navy hovercraft throwing up a tail like a proud rooster.

On the second day of holy week, my true love gave to me … I walk on Monday, I don’t do early morning church except on Sunday. But for some it concludes their Lenten discipline. My years at Trinity Church, I offered seven-thirty Mass every morning of Holy Week, and folks came, generally six, ten, a dozen. I billed it as a fifteen minute Eucharist, and kept to that: opening, gospel, consecration, distribution, prayer, and out the door at 7:45. It was fine, because work started at eight o’clock, and in magical little Apalachicola that was plenty of time to get to work. My middle-age years, forty-eight to sixty-three. 

Dear memories and people. What a great thing. Life is Good.

There goes the galleon out the Pass, she was still at downtown marina earlier, going, gone. Didn’t notice when she was close enough to snap. Fair winds …

DThos+ moving on