Driving. Zooming to a friend's house. Late. Late. Late. Very slow minivan ahead of me. Irritated because it's my own putzy fault that we're late. Grey day. Drizzly.
I slow my car to meet the curve of the river, which is what is shaping the road. My eyes flit to the river. It's rocky here, lots of rapids, dips, pools, plunges.
A heron is poised on almost every boulder I can see. Fishing.
I pull the car over. Let the minivan putter in peace. Take a deep breath.
My daughter and I sit watching the 20 herons fishing for their brunch. For seconds, minutes, hours. I don't know how long.
Right on time.
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