I’m on the porch, rocking back and forth on the double-wide wicker swing.

It’s heavenly to sit here without anywhere to go, without any agenda to fulfill, without the need to be anyone in this moment.

My friends are out back in the pool, sunning and sleeping. I hear a mother – her accent sounds French – beckoning her young children in the pool. She squeals with praise when they jump in, and she encourages them again and again. I’d thought they were going to break the spell of these rare peaceful moments with their loud family sounds, but it is a happy backdrop.

In Shelter Island for the weekend, it doesn’t feel like a vacation destination; I didn’t immediately warm to its charms. But I’m always happy as a clam to take a break from the city, and the breezes and blue skies and lush grasses have worked their way into my soul.

Shelter Island

There are butterflies flitting around me. They seem playfully happy, as we all should be on a summery Sunday.

At this moment, there isn’t anywhere I’d rather be. And for that, I am very grateful.

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