I am in Gualala, at the Breakers Inn, looking out from the Maine Room, watching the waves break. The gulls are ecstatic as am I.

I think of chemotherapy, a poison injected into the vein, so a person may live. I have been given an extension. I soften on the gift, reach out like a caterpillar at the end of a leaf. What now do I taste?

How is the air changed?

I breathe sandwiched, feeling layers of in and out.

I now light a fire, honoring all the elements, earth, air, fire, water, and space, space to pause and consciously notice each breath, each as unique as each wave.

There is a structure on the beach, built of driftwood. Hands carefully took wood found on the beach and created a place to enter, to go inside. Being here, I do the same.