Roiling

In Alaska's Katmai National Park, there are abundant sock-eye salmon in the rivers and abundant bears hungry for them. Here a brown bear bounds and splashes after a school of the red fish.

I’m not that person who simply cannot sit still. I’m happy to sit. On the couch all day. Football game after football game and any and every Olympic sport in a row. Binge watching Agents of Shield, Modern Family or Jessica Jones. Wasting hours on social media avoiding FOMO or trying to write this stuff. I spend hours on “photo editing.” Counting wave after wave hitting the shore while sitting on a towel. I can do chores in my mind with eyes closed. I bet I’d be good at hibernating, too.

But I’m feeling that shimmer. That tweaked tuning fork oscillating back and forth that you feel more than see. The vibrations of an eardrum working up sound. The whir of hummingbird wings that you can’t see, but you feel the engine of their 70 beats a minute. The coming together of cold and warm air in the creation of a storm.

I’m not really restless as much as agitated, but like the piston of a washing machine, not like anger. I wonder if I’m blinking more. Is the hair on my head quietly undulating, unseen by a passing family member? I am perched on the edge of, I don’t know. Something.

The Spouse asked me if I was coming down with something. I don’t think so.

I told him that I would sleep it off. We’ll see how that goes.

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