Pescadero Marsh Natural Preserve

“I’m happy every day,” she said. “I’m so happy to be here! I’m alive!!”  The slight halt to her speech is due to a stroke, a tumor, years of surgery, months of silence. Now she tends her little shop in a small coastal tourist town, greeting folks with a glowing wide smile and riveting intensity. I will always call her the Gratitude Lady, because she reminded me of what is important, and what I so easily forget. 

We took the day off to drive up the coast a ways, not even an hour. At the bottom left of the photo is a light line—in fact a portable bridge that connects the mainland to the dark meandering strip in the water, where you can walk seemingly forever. We kept thinking that soon, soon, we would come to a dead end out there in the marsh, but no. A bicyclist came toward us at full speed, said over his shoulder that the trail went all the way to the end, but the end of what never became clear. We turned around and made our winding way back to the car, happy with our little outing. At least one of us needed a nap after so much fresh air and sunshine.