out the righthand window, there is only the rippling of rainhungry hills; on the left, only the ceaseless rippling of the sea, a pale horizon girdling each. we bank, and the beach pulls itself into view, whirring behind the propellors, blurring boundaries between ocean and land, just as we refuse the bounding of gravity and sky. beside me, a man flutters his wide, wrinkled hands in the small, helpless movements of age. i feel sure that once he held a newborn child in those hands, guided a dun horse over a hill, held a thoughtful pen and wrote words of truth. he strikes me as noble, and quenches a longheld thirst in me by simply nodding, smiling at the name of my hometown.

the long flight over the country bores me by now. i close the window and watch the inflight movie, read a book, only occasionally peek out to see great fluffly clouds borne by the same wind as i. from san fransisco to home though, i am avid at the window. when we first sweep over the ocean, something in me coils and unclenches. no matter how far away you are, the ocean never gets smaller. houses and boats and even the waves shrink to nothing, but the ocean gapes wide and undeterred, returns always to memory in the crashing glory of its truth. i love this place. i love its rocks and its trees, i love when we circle to land and i can point out my personal landmarks - there's the baseball field, there's morgan's, there's pebble beach greening itself in the fitful sun. green.

our green is different from philadelphia's. there is green there, yes, more than expected, but it has some quality of the forced to it, some selfconsciousness born of the steel and cement. the green of the pennsylvania countryside is lavish, lewd almost, dripping shades and shadows. here, the scrub oaks and the pine trees know their place. they've grown in the comfort of the fog and the cycles of waves, and monarchs, and wildfires.

my dress, also, is green, iridescent falling to pink. we have a cake, and chairs and candles and the invitations have been delivered and the flowers will be bought tomorrow. we went to pick up her dress today, her gown, and lord, but she'll be beautiful. i met the lucky man yesterday. we eyed each other somewhat warily but got along well. oh, my darling girl, about to be married.