Photos:  Pam White

Walked to the beach around 4:30, after the torrential rains in Aquinnah.  The water was sluicing down from the ponds above the beach, cutting new sculptures into the sand, exposing new stones, brilliant colors.  The waves were big rollers, looming up from nowhere.  I sat this one out.

I thought about the storms that children bring in – rogue waves, big stinkers that explode out of the blue and leave you gasping for air, unable to think or move.  In April when the s___t hit the fan with our youngest daughter, we went into mourning and into shock.  Watched marathon Netflix of “A Touch of Frost,” (there are 13 seasons), anything to not feel it, to hold the grief and hurt at bay.

Now we are carved like this beach, but the waves will come in and out and smooth us.  I gotta believe, for her, for us.