Monday, May 13, 2013
Yesterday, we went to Niagara Falls with cousin Danielle. We took a ride on the Maid of the Mist. It was an unseasonably cold Mother's Day and we basically had the entire boat to ourselves. It seems impossible that one can get so very close to the Falls. It was raining and the mist was terrific and we could hardly keep our eyes open for the spray of the water. I kept looking at these incredible turbulent waters, the Falls that look like a giant wave cresting before us, or an oncoming flood, or like standing in the middle of the Red Sea, or on the deck of the Ark. It felt wild, sublime (in the Romantic era sense), and yet completely safe. We stood on the steady little boat that had trudged out countless times to the edge of the Falls, we were coated in our blue slickers, even Sam laughed, we were secure. This was the most overwhelming thing that I had ever seen. To stand here was too be very close to very basic force and life. It made me think of death and on this Mother's day not surprisingly of my Mother's death. It seemed okay then--dying--like it might, when you got real close, seem surprisingly okay.