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Driving home, chased by lightning. How many days have we had lightning now? Four? I love it. Sky rising from motherly passivity, give us a little kick in the ass for bad behavior. White hot cracks of the whip. At work the surge protectors scream, and outside car alarms bellow. It is all very exciting. But tonight, driving home under thickening cloud cover, the lightning was strobes of daylight, beautiful and quiet in the distance. The rain came just as I stepped from the car. I spent much of the evening in a café writing the heartfelt details of the last few weeks. Time to catch up, but not enough life in the hand to do it thoroughly. I was lonely there among the Friday night pockets of conversation. People eating huge slices of cobbler and sipping drip coffees, gossiping or talking about work. There was one other woman who came later, near closing time, who sat across the café from me alone, reading. Earlier I had gone to Greenlake to float a lantern for the dead. Hiroshima Day. Mary and Wayne told me about it and said yes when I invited myself along. I arrived after they did, after I had stopped to eat something. They had already purchased a piece of paper for me to wrap around a lantern stand. "Happiness" was written on it in kanji. Is that a wish for one soul or all of them? I am too self-involved at the moment and want to wish it for myself. We endured quite a few minutes of anti-violence propaganda before a Buddhist monk stood behind the microphone to chant. Not like in Korea, but familiar enough to awaken that part of me. I thought that the reason Buddhist prayer is so comforting to me is because I don't understand the words. I do not have to hear how repetitive and narrow the message, only a voice making soothing melody. Straight to my soul, but not directive: personal. And then we lit and set the lanterns free. How was it? Lines? Crowds? Hundreds of lighted squares bobbing and floating, journeying toward a place they would never reach. Some were lost along the way, catching fire or toppling over in the gathering wind. I followed mine for quite awhile. At one point the two lanterns flanking it sunk in unison while the candle in mine flickered dangerously close to black, but pushed on and on with the wind toward the northern shore. Wayne said that had to be a good sign.

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