Well, it rained all night long, nonstop.
I woke up and headed inside the house.
Greg, Laurel’s father, was asleep on the living room couch. I met Greg at the Grocery Store in Cannon Beach the day before. He drove Laurel and Jameson to Astoria and he is driving around doing some sightseeing while they bike. He doesn’t have a plan, so for now he is doing his touring until he decides to head back home.
Tim was in the kitchen. The morning silence invited us to sit down and share. I told Tim a little bit about my life and he shared a little bit of his life with me. What an amazing and inspiring journey! He left early to go to work. He told me that it takes him 5 minutes walking to get there. I told him, once again, how much I appreciated his hospitality. He left with a smile on his face.
Greg woke up. Laurel, Jameson, and Lottie joined us.
Greg cooked a delicious breakfast while Jameson played the guitar and we sang Pink Floyd’s “Wish You Were Here.” It brought me good memories of my two sons, Pedro and Mateus, and the times we jammed together.
So, so you think you can tell Heaven from Hell, blue skies from pain.
Can you tell a green field from a cold steel rail?
A smile from a veil?
Do you think you can tell?
And did they get you to trade your heroes for ghosts?
Hot ashes for trees?
Hot air for a cool breeze?
Cold comfort for change?
And did you exchange a walk on part in the war for a lead role in a cage?
How I wish, how I wish you were here.
We’re just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, year after year,
Running over the same old ground.
What’ve we found? The same old fears.
Wish you were here.