My cabin at Woods Hole was about a mile and a half from the MBL. They have a shuttle that runs between cabins and the main campus, but I was always off schedule in the morning. I either had just missed the shuttle at the stop or I was too impatient to wait for the shuttle. So instead of waiting, I’d walk a trail through the woods that lead to a paved bike path and then walk the bike path all the way into Woods Hole. The path conveniently ends right across the street from Pie in The Sky, a coffee shop and bakery with delicious popover breakfast sandwiches. It is an easy and pleasant walk and then there’s breakfast right there at the end.

The bike path is called the Shining Sea Bikeway and stretches from Woods Hole to the neighboring town of Falmouth. A long stretch of the path runs along the ocean, though from where I would start every morning, the view was more forest than ocean. The path sort of combines with a parking lot for overflow ferry parking as you get into town. An old church and cemetery sits on one side of the parking lot/path and every morning I saw the same deer grazing around the headstones. Once you pass the cemetery, there is a highly graffitied bridge to pass through. The graffiti art is not commissioned, but much of it is so well done that it should be commissioned. The last bit of graffiti appears as you exit the tunnel simply read: You will die. Make art.

I read this every morning as I walked into town.

I remember when my niece-in-law announced her intention to remarry. At the time, I said to Chris “It seems fast.” His response was “We’ve all learned, in a very horrible way, that life is short. Why wait?” And he was/is right, of course. After J’s death, Chris and I worked really hard at living our lives differently. There was less talk of things we wanted to do and more actual doing of the things. I have tried to maintain this approach to life even after Chris’s death. I met Michael one year and five months after Chris died. There are people out there who would gasp, clutch their pearls and remark on the suddenness of my relationship. There is a misconception that we must leave time to grieve as if grief is similar to a broken bone and heals within a given time frame. The reality is that grieving is endless. If I left time to grieve, I would still be spending my evenings alone on the couch with a bottle of wine and a sleeve of saltine crackers. Eleven years later. I have learned to leave space in my every day life for grief while continuing to live my life.

Lately my talk of things I want to do sounds more like a chore list than things that I actually want to do. That’s why I finally booked an appointment for that tattoo I have been wanting for the last eight years. I bought a really good backpack for my camera so I feel more comfortable carting it around and using it. I was determined to start riding my bicycle to work and I’ve ridden three time to work this week. Just recently I said to a friend “Life is short. Get a puppy.” I never once thought about turning this philosophy of life is short/ do the thing around onto my art. When’s the last time I told myself “Life is short. Write the book.” or when’s the last time I printed out a batch of pictures just for myself? I used to do this seasonally. A collage of photos of Josephine in various sleeping positions has been hanging over my bed for two years now.

You will die.

Make art.

So, thank you to this mysterious graffiti artist for this nudge to snap out of this creative funk I have wrapped around my shoulders. It’s summer and too hot for wraps.