T

Sleeping, jarred semi-conscious by a huge explosion: a bomb? a plane crash into the building? Dream driftily. Second explosion: naval gunfire from offshore? Awake to sit up in bed: lightning and thunder. Up, slip around curtain, slide door open, step out onto 7H porch darkness into severe thunderstorm with driving rain.

5:58 a.m., already six hours old, Tuesday begins for me. July 31st. Something inside me still hates for summer to slip away. Sixty-five years ago there'd still have been a month left of summer vacation, the heaven of June, July, and August before Tuesday after Labor Day. Can't shake it even though summers have become insufferably hot and eighty-two is slipping away faster than the rainstorm. 

Rain away to the east as quickly as life itself, and is gone!

Nearly. Raining in the Gulf beyond Davis Point.

Dawn, light. Coffee, second mug, boat motoring noisily out to sea or maybe to join five others fishing in the channel at the Pass. Breakfast warming in the little toaster-oven: half of yesterday's hamburger and three chicken livers to make half a sandwich. 

Good morning and happy day.

T