Cassis was under a wild wonderful wicked storm, all day long.
Waking to waves crashing, thunderous, my dream said, "Westport!" though the reality laughed, "Cassis! This loud?" Opening the shutters this is what I saw: Northern California! Oh la la, but it felt like it, as memory happiness swam right up to the window and splashed me.
Cassis in the winter, is my childhood summer, Oh! Laying on the beach in sweatshirts with my cousins Bernie, Alma, Bev. and my brothers under the fog, camping every summer.
The first time I heard about Cassis: 30 years ago, I was in Paris having dinner with Yann's friends when one of them said, "Oh if you move to Marseille, you must go to Cassis, the locals St. Tropez."
The locals, and history said, "Never was there a day like today."
Waves whipping as they do up north, with the boom that makes one know who is in charge: Nature.
And the mist sprayed against my face, glorious baptism, licking my salty lips, smile down to my toes.
The waves stayed rough throughout the day, spectacular, impressive, grand, dramatic, familiar of a distance home.
Cassis rainbow of color.
The ever changing constant. The deep diving dreams, surfacing such things as sand, pearls, seaweeds and once Chelsea found a message in a bottle in Mendocino.
Mesmerizing, mysterious pull, oh siren how do you do that? I could not turn away. How fortunate seagulls are to dance above the waves.
God, I could live in this house.
How many times have I said that?
Does that count as prayer?
This evening you were still going strong.