E.O.T.

The sea provides a great source of optimism. It has been here as it is here from time immemorial. Pretty much as it is here, anyway. Here are sets of stairs. Over there is a sea wall. But both stairs and wall have to be purposely maintained, repaired, strengthened in their broken parts. The sea does not have to be repaired. The sea will appear at dawn tomorrow pretty much as it appeared yesterday. Each day it is the same to the eye, even as each day it appears differently to the camera.

How fortunate I am, that I am able to drive a few short blocks to where Ballou and I can walk for forty minutes or more and look out to the permanent, but always changeable, forever moving, sea. It is so much of a better solace than walking through one's neighborhood, and looking at static landscaping and architecture - things crafted by men.

This Shoreline Park routine has eluded us for years, because off-leash canines are prohibited. As beautiful as she is when she is running full-blast, Ballou cannot be permitted to further destroy her right knee. As much as I enjoy watching her run, I do not like to see her limp afterwards. TW and I refer to her, in code, as the 3rd Unit; we do not want to think of her as a living, breathing tripod.

Ballou seems to accept being leashed in Shoreline Park almost as much as she loved her past unleashed romping on the beach below. Today, she tugs at the 20-foot leash such that it is always taut, never slack.

Like me, she enjoys moving through changing scenary. And, like me, she enjoys the company. And like me, she is reassured that both of us will be here tomorrow. Until the end of time.