On Friday night, I danced barefoot in the Gulf of Mexico waters of Galveston Beach. The watery night was spread out dark and wide like spilled ink, with a full and heavy moon spilling its light over the crime. It was the eve of Summer Solstice and I stood not worshipping the sun but the moon and her illumination of those dark waters. I felt very near my father, standing there with the rhythm of the small waves curling past my feet and breaking onto the shore. He's part of those waters, and in his life he could navigate by the very stars and moon shining over me. I gazed at that moon that somehow connected me there to him then, and breathed deep the salty June air, felt the warm Gulf breeze moving across my body and through my hair, and held my arms out wide to him.
Do you believe in magic?