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Show (STORM WARNINGS: CHILDHOOD MEMORIES, FOR MY SISTER, P. 2) in the coastal fog dragging underneath loosely shaped clouds, shadows edged in moonlight. And from far away, past the slow-moving cows, we heard the clanging of a buoy. Ill All along the edge of Long Island Sound the small boats were secured to their moorings, their thin banners fluttering in the wind like the guidon flags Whitman once wrote of. But we were children and did not know about war, only the approaching storm, the lightning bolts over the other shore, and the ways to gauge rising tidewater- or how we'd once seen a neighbor's home too near the sea undercut by a crumbling beachfront. When the storm tracked north over Connecticut we held each other closer than ever, knowing the land we lived on was safe and erosion was only one measurement of time. |