Yesterday afternoon, on our way back into Portland Harbor after three hours on the mailboat, we saw a pod of porpoises. We had been sitting in the prow, eating tomato sandwiches, and suddenly there they were, arching alongside the boat, gleaming with muscle and spray.
It was a good day to be on the water: bright and brisk and not too choppy; a good evening to eat mountains of steamed mussels and then sit on the deck with cannoli for dessert.
Still, I felt twinges of the fear I wrote about yesterday. I think that may be a permanent condition.