the blue of it all is what hit me the most, on this bright sunday in october.
i've seen oceans at sunset, with the ambers and crimsons blending with the graying sky. and i've seen oceans at mid-day, crowded with surfers and sailors, tones of flesh speckling the water.
but as our ferry departed long island, headed toward connecticut, in the early hours, i saw the ocean in an entirely new light--that of morning. that of an absolute blue more pure than i've ever seen in my life. an almost blinding reflection of sun and light and a cloudless sunrise.
we ate lunch in bridgeport, stopping to pay homage to the hometown of your friend and mine, mr. john mayer. because room for squares is still on constant replay in my car and i will forever be enamored with the john of old, pretending that this new john, with his awkward interviews and weird jazz solos is simply a mirage.
then we spent a few hours traveling under the trees at yale. with a tour guide who was a theater major and supremely suited for his role. i rubbed the bronze toe of the woosley statue, a yale tradition believed to bring good luck. because school is hard and work is long and i've got plenty of faith, but a little luck never hurt either.
and we traveled onward. the sounds of conor oberst wafting through the speakers. there's nothing that the road cannot heal. we picked apples the size of our head and feasted on cider doughnuts. this was the afternoon we witnessed the dog get hit. for an hour my heart hurt and the twinge of sadness remains.
our last stop was mystic. that old seaport made famous by julia roberts. we sat in a high-backed chairs and ate the best pizza. seriously, the best. with a little snap to the crust. this was day two. plenty more ahead, more behind.