We’ve been going over to Morro Bay every weekend for the last ten years.
Unless we are at the Grand Canyon, that’s where we are…either on the water or sitting on the patio, above the golf course, watching the tide go in and out and the deer wandering around. The fog rolls up the hill at this time of day and softens everything.
So the plan on my calendar for this weekend was for Brent and Mike and I to take to boat out, drop anchor and let Brent work on some of his sketches for a new series he was planning…some kind of rippling water transparent abstract thing was how he described it. Mike was going to do some diving and I was going to knit out in the sun. Coach’s “little” girl, Jaime, just had a baby (She is LISI’S age, which just doesn’t make it seem possible that she even has a baby.)
Then we’d probably grill some fish out on the dock. Sunday was going to be of the same.
But instead, we are staying home. I can’t even bear to go flipping thru my calendar and delete Brent from our plans-not yet. It is hard enough to go over and clean out his house and bundle up his belongings for charity. I still have to clean up his studio because I can’t ask Mike to do either one and there is no one else.
It’s not so bad during the week–I’m so busy, I don’t have time to think. It’s the weekends that are killing me. It’s the opposite for Mike. He saw Brent all week long, so the whole week is hard for him. Plus he gets phone calls all week long from Brent’s friends who somehow think that he has all the answers.