Then I decided to snap a quick picture of the quilts I finished last night, and noticed that there are a mere six photos on my phone. Six, as in less than seven. ARGHHH! Benjamin decided he needed room for his pictures of desserts, and had the gall to delete two years of photos! Sewing camp, quilts, chicks, weddings, graduation!! I had enough restraint to keep from barreling up the stairs to upbraid him, but I practiced my you-are-in-deep-trouble speech. My firstborn will blow a gasket. He makes it a priority to give me footholds in the black hole that is technology. I will have to talk him out of jumping on a transcontinental flight to come extract them out of oblivion. 

Then I checked Facebook. Our nephew posted a video he deemed "stunning." Whatever. I opened it, with a finger ready to click DONE at the first flicker of boredom. I watched. The tension in my chest loosened. My shoulders released. My heart rate slid to double digits. The hammering words in my head floated away. 

The video is a time lapse capture of the fog in San Francisco. No text, no plot, no leading lady. Just the soft flow of undulating waves of water droplets as they obscure the Golden Gate Bridge. 

In the comments a local pointed out that fog is often scoffed at as an obstacle, or an inconvenience to people trying to get to work. But in this context it conveyed mystery, calm.  In the simple process of speeding up the landscape by a factor of ten, he muted the harsh edges of time.

I felt the obscurity wash over the two sacrificial chickens, and the years of memories released to the atmosphere. Maybe in the grand scheme of life they are not quite tragedies.

In place of the angst my heart swelled with gratitude. Whomever this videographer is I wanted, no, needed to thank him. Then I noticed it. A little green button called TIP JAR.

It was substantially cheaper than therapy or prescription tranquilizers.