Once again, I find myself sitting in the communal area of a hostel on the coast, watching families and young adults as they settle. Before making my way to the HI Marin Headlands, I stood at a railing high above the sea, watching a small skiff journey northward, propelled by a brisk, sturdy wind pushing. On the distant horizon, tankers made their way to port.
When my bones, I have rested, I shall take myself back to civilization. But for now, and for a little while, I rise to no greater challenge than the occasional need for sustenance. Tomorrow brings a bit of sunshine, so I shall make my way to farther points. But evening will find me in this same chair, surrounded by tall windows of old beveled glass, snug in this old infirmary deep within the forest.
It’s the twenty-fourth day of the sixty-fifth month of My Year Without Complaining. Life continues.