As time goes by...

This is as close as we get to the sea these days.

All night long, we hear it roar and crash on rocky shores.
Its rhythm  lulls us to sleep every night, loud enough to hush all thoughts.

Its smell is the first thing I notice in the morning, before I make my strong dark brew, as I wash the french press and water my deck plants with the remains of the grounds. I used to sit out in the mornings when we first moved here, fascinated by all the drama out there, the rolling waves, the thundering surf.  I'd sit in my robe and a big blanket and sip my first cup of coffee still in the dark sometimes, sky above, streaks of light from the surf spraying over the rocks below.

This I can still do, for as long as I want, I declare each time I open the sliding door to let the cat out and throw away the old grounds from the urn.

Strength may be slow in returning, I say to my husband as he stops and sits out to recover after a few yards during our daily walks.

It will return, he says with confidence.

We practice our violin for fifteen-twenty minutes a day,(a violin/fiddle we began learning last winter, to get out of our heads, to begin living again!), between television shows, between Jeopardy and The Daily Show. We tune and adjust the instruments for five minutes, do scales for five, attempt a tune for ten. Even before the time is up, my fingers begin to ache, my shoulders too. I stop, go to the bathroom, check the time before declaring myself too tired to continue.

Look, this is a simple tune, he says, before I leave the room,  handing me a sheet of music- Mary Has a Little Lamb- all marked with numbers and letters. Ohhhh! I can do this!!!!

And I try.
And it does sound like the original tune.
How did you know  what numbers and letters go where?
Ah, I read the notations and I wrote them down with numbers for you.
I wish I could read music, I say.
You will...