This morning I went down to the lake, I sat on the stones, I watched the boats come in and out of the harbour, bows tilting toward the open water. And all these heavy things I carry around on my heart that anyone could hear in my sigh and see in the creasing of my forehead, I laid them all out in front of me. Stretching them in a row, I began to ask myself, "In a decade, let alone a year or even a month, will I still be worried about these things? Do I still want to be carrying them with me?" And just one or two I picked back up and put in my pocket for further review, and the others I left at the shoreline, because the only thing you should bring back with you from the beach is the kiss of the sun and maybe some sand.