The sea was a peridot--grey-green and clear in the fog.

We watched it roll in again and again in the mist. On the beach, alone in the early evening, playing in the surf. Occasionally a kid (or husband) would run ahead, swallowed up by the fog. There was no horizon, just ocean and sky as one.

Another day we rode out into the bay and searched for whales in the fog. And there they were, humpbacks and right whales resting on the surface of the waters. I waited my whole life for this, I thought, and clapped in delight as a fluke arced above the surface and then slipped below into a deep dive. I wondered what stories these whales would tell me about crazy tourists in boats hovering just far enough away for a little privacy, just close enough to annoy. And the right whales, with only 300 brothers left in the world. Will I see you again, I wondered.