Stormy morning

Spectacular waves and wind, spray blown 20 feet into the air in front of a softly glowering sky. We've been reading aloud from All the Light We Cannot See, by Anthony Doerr. 

Set in Saint-Malo, the cover reminds me of one of the most emotionally exhausting days of my life, walking along the rock outcropping between the ramparts of that city and the sea with my son and the father who left before he was born. The father he was meeting for the first of two times in their lives. Doerr writes:

Saint-Malo: Water surrounds the city on four sides. Its link to the rest of France is tenuous: a causeway, a bridge, a spit of sand.... In stormy light, its granite glows blue. At the highest tides, the sea creeps into basements at the very center of town. At the lowest tides, the barnacled ribs of a thousand shipwrecks stick out above the sea.

Relationships. Shipwrecks. Our little lives the flotsam and jetsam of bad decisions made when we were too young to know better. We were young, crazed with ambition and belief in possibilities that would never play out.