Three Paragraphs of Unrelated Things

On my way home from San Francisco yesterday the train stopped at a station where two musicians sat playing violin and accordion outside a coffeehouse. From my window seat I watched as an elderly woman with a humped back danced in front of them like a girl of six.

For my birthday this year I drove the family out to Pescadero on the coast where we inspected the tide pools and spent a few hours birding in the marsh. A northern harrier swept across the wetlands on fierce patrol, but the best thing I saw was a black phoebe that caught a gnat in mid-air.

At the beach last summer my daughter asked me to hold her kite while she looked for sand dollars. I buttoned the spool into the left breast pocket of my shirt so that I could fly it hands-free. I meant to help my daughter hunt for shells but was too distracted by the wind tugging at my heart.

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