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Nantucket Island

A misunderstood virtue of an island is that once there, you never need to confront the sea. As in facing mortality, you never need to confront eternity. Both just are. Nonetheless, that island in the sea, that mortality persists in seeking knowledge of the beyond. Haven or fathomless perspective, both are on offer, intertwined with the lives we lead. Facing this dichotomy, who would not seek refuge in anonymity, a world apart, private unto itself?

The sea is in the air, undeniable in breath and pulse. The wind and stunted trees a constant reminder. Resplendent grasses in the light of expansive skies. Horizons with no endpoint or benign escape meet oneness. The world is a challenge to life. Nantucket is such a place.

Flowers bloom as thistles wither. Histories are unwound. A bunker stands on the shore where once stood a rocket testing range, where one of JFK’s bunkers in the event of nuclear Armageddon offers blunt protection from the horizon. Would he and Jackie have emerged in shorts and Capri’s to see the seals swimming and rejoice?

The guard post has now become an ode to Lichtenstein. How would that have been received in a future loop where people live forever when they emerge?

These are mere musings. This is not a complete tale, but a smattering of impressions collected over intermittent moments in time. Still, on my personal clock, they matter to me as moments that can never be reclaimed. I expect beauty in the loose randomness of life.

Nantucket has been a celebration of family, of love and loss. Much of the former still remains as every visit offers blessings and surprises, seen with eyes that can only see what lies before. Nothing is final, or is that everything?

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