One of my favorite, most sacred annual traditions is going crabbing on the Navesink River with my nice dad. We both look forward to these days all year, and this past Labor Day weekend we were worried the weather would thwart us.
Fortunately we did get our trip in, and it was as special and excellent as always. It was cut a bit short by wind and the beginning of rain, which eventually turned into thunderstorms.
The soft, gentle beginning of rain falling on gray water feels like exactly the right level of delicate sensitivity that I need lately. I found this little clip on my camera and have been transported over and over to that moment in the summer, standing on the wet dock. I keep thinking about my frighteningly tiny place in the universe and the extraordinary benevolence it shows, even when it seems otherwise. Somehow I really believe everything will be okay.