MY NAME IS KATHLEEN,

my father

he used to say the ocean had a memory.

When I was a girl, I thought he meant tides and storms

the way water always seemed to come back to the same places,

to the same worn posts and docks,

as if recognized them.

But as I sit now, on the porch of the old house overlooking

Rubyway Harbor, I’m not so certain he meant anything so simple.

The porch faces east, toward the Atlantic, where the water stretches

out in a long blue breath that changes colors with the sky.

Today it is cobalt-bright endless, and almost too perfect

to look at for long.

There’s a stillness under it today.

Once in a while, check in for this story its worth your while.

Victoria