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  • It was a rare, blue day in early June.

    Summer comes reluctantly to the Maine islands and June is at best a fickle month.

    The island was quiet. The regular mail service had started but most of the houses stood empty. Summer vacation for most other families was still three weeks away. My Father hauled us across the country as soon as the academic calendar at the university was finished. We were usually the first kids out on the island each year and the only ones to stay the entire summer.

    My mother and I were waiting for the mail boat down at the shore.

    We lay back in the meadow grass and wildflowers and watched the clouds.

    I’m bored, I said.

    My mother got up and walked away.




    This morning I was up with the sun. I leaned on the porch railing, coffee in hand, looked out over the gardens and contemplated projects in all their stages. Watched the butterflies in the shattered cottonwood. Listened to birdsong and considered where to begin the day.

    Eloquence is the ability to say so much with so little. My mother's eloquence has reverberated through my life.
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