The day after Isaiah's burial Matt and I decided to drive to Warren Dunes just south of St. Joseph, MI. It took us over 4 hours to get there because Matt drove 45 mph, taking back roads the whole way. We joked with each other that we feel as if we are 27 going on 80...and lately our activities carry the mark of a geriatric: we go to bed around 8pm, take long drives along back roads (with no destination in mind), suddenly have a peculiar interest in cemeteries...oh and I carry lots of pills in my purse!
The dunes were really beautiful. We drove into the park and discovered that we were the only ones there. The large lakeside parking lot was overrun by sand blown up by blasts of winter wind and swirled with the freshly fallen snow. Matt parked the car on the only piece of clear asphalt that he could find and we set out toward the lake. As we stumbled through piles of snow and dirt, we realized how rebellious the rolls of sand were. I kept saying how the scene captured our feelings: desolate, reckless and out-of-control...yet totally sublime and soothingly quiet. Even the lake was silent. On that side of the lake, the ice stretches a good mile out and it totally stills everything. No waves. Just blue meeting blue.