It was a terrible day.  Then, near the end of it, I got to go on a walk.  By myself.  So I had all this headspace and only my own body to hoist up and down the hills that lead to the water near our house:  Murden Cove.  It's real name was Murder Cove, on account of a woman's body found on the shoreline years ago.  But that name creeped people out, so the city made a nice little swipe on the "r" to make an "n".  And I really like the name Murden Cove.
I came down the lane where the path opens out to display the silver water and sky, just one big palette of rich greys.  And I catch my breath because even it's stillness is so alive and it smells like sea and someone cooking over a campfire somewhere and it's moist and almost warm today though it's October and I had this weird feeling like I was in college again and could do anything.  And I breathed in the smells there, thinking, "the very sight of this salty water feeds my mad heart."
Walking along the water a bit I can feel my body lowering it's anger shields, like if I was a bird my ruffled feathers would be smoothing back down. I tell God I love this part of what He made. It's one of His best ideas, in my opinion.  I tell Him that all the time, like how He made the water and then the shore and they both teem with life, at this magical point where they meet.  Ravens were feeding all up and down the shore.  One lone seagull kept bleating.  I saw My Blue Heron perched on a bulkhead, giving me the stinkeye.
Earlier in the day Evelyn "offered" me a bite of her dried mango, all soggy from her gumming it.  That's the first time she's ever done that.  This event and my walk at Murden Cove salvaged the day.