I remember writing three blogs last Saturday when I was home alone. Mylo was with me. Today is cloudy. Last Saturday was sunny. MJ Aaron and Jonathon had a grand time in Paducah. Mylo and the Old Man spent their time on the Writing Porch/Cigar Bar. The week has gone quickly. They all go quickly.

Time is a bit like swimming in the ocean. We swim forward until the waves push us back. When we lift our wet heads to look around, we are unmoored by time. Is the shoreline behind us, or is that ahead? So we redouble our efforts to attain shore. Everything looks the same. Perhaps we should float for a while.

Our internal compass is searching for due north. It frantically turns. The swimmer ponders whether it is nature or nurture. When did we begin swimming in the Ocean? This morning or many mornings ago? We have a destination, but the Ocean is vast. The Swimmer hears his mother’s call…’ Come home, it is supper time.’ Mother has been gone for some time. Jonathon and Aaron open the Christmas gifts. Their faces are radiant with joy. MJ is lovely in any light.

An Island is before us in the Ocean. Swimming is tiring work. Time for a short rest. The Old Man greets us on the Island. He offers a Dirty Martini. What a nice surprise.

‘Where are you headed?’ the Old Man asks. ‘I saw you with my binoculars,’ the Old Man continued. ‘I admire your ability to float. I often floated when I was a lad,’ the Old Man winked. ‘I would float so far from shore that the people on the beach looked like ants,’ the Old Man laughed. ‘One of your friends is here,’ the Old Man smiled.

‘I swam out yesterday,’ Chet said. ‘It seemed especially long since I did not recall when I got into the water,’ Chet grinned. ‘I tried your floating technique, Chet explained. ‘I heard Dad call out to me, but he has been dead since we were kids in Eldorado,’ Chet said quietly. ‘What year is it?’ Chet chuckled. ‘You know, come to think of it, I think I have been on this island for more than a day,’ Chet mused. ‘I can not remember when I arrived,’ Chet continued. ‘All I am sure of is the Old Man makes a grand Dirty Martini, and he seems to know a lot about me,’ Chet laughed and asked for another Dirty Goose.

‘I see you have found the Island,’ Neva J said. ‘I love to swim as you and Chet remember, but the Ocean is confusing,’ Neva J continued. ‘When I first dipped my toe in the cold water, I was a girl. Then I looked around, and I was middle-aged. ‘Now, now, I am older than the Old Man,’ Neva J laughed. ‘Have you tried the Old Man’s Merlot? It is the best,’ Neva J did a dance. ‘Dutch told me this would happen…when you begin to swim in the Ocean everything runs together,’ Neva J winked. ‘First you are young, then old and young again,’ Neva J sipped Merlot. ‘We are specks living on a speck that is swimming in a vast Ocean that never quits growing,’ Neva J said as she poured another Merlot.