In 2004 came the shocking news that
Fran had developed breast cancer. We
needed an escape, some time to sort through a jumble of emotions and
to heal body, mind, and soul. Our
routine had become a series of doctor’s appointments. We
wanted some time to relax and to appreciate nature’s time table. After
surgery and chemotherapy, and before Fran began her radiation
treatments, we decided to return to Newagen, a special place of
quiet and meaning.
One of our favorite spots is Sunset
Rock, a tiny triangle that juts out into the Sheepscot. We walked
along the path from the inn through a thin curtain of spruces. Adorning
the rocks are circular lichens, some black, others mustard yellow,
like cryptic symbols that Mother Nature has left for us to
interpret. If God speaks
to us in a whisper, so does the ocean reveal her gifts during low
tide. The air was
sweetly redolent of salt and iodine. Ochre
rockweed hung limply at the water’s edge like sodden mop heads;
entangled in the fronds were a constellation of star fish, twisting
eerily in the wind. Black mussels and bone colored barnacles
encrusted the rocks, desperately competing for survival in the
intertidal zone. Across
the channel on the shore of Hunting Island, white gulls and darker
cormorants echoed the salt and pepper color scheme. The
soft murmur of the ocean waters gave the impression of stillness. Occasionally
the mewing and yodels of the gulls carried over in our direction and
punctuated the calm.
As the sun dipped lower toward the
western shore of the Sheepscot it formed a wide swath of beaten
silver across the expanse of water. Paradoxically
the ebbing sun appeared to erupt out of the Sheepscot. What was a
setting sun gave the
illusion of rising. As I
reflected on the events that brought my beloved and me back to this
familiar location, I thought that rather an ending, this recent
phase in our lives was a new beginning for both of us.
