On my honeymoon in Maui. I lie on a beach rotating between Lucia Berlin's stories and Rebecca Solnit's Hope in the Dark. It's very bright and I'm not feeling much hope so I'm reading Berlin faster. My husband points out crabs peeking out of holes in the sand but I always look too late. It's not my fault, he says, they scare easily. I wade into the waves and swim out until I nearly collide with a giant sea turtle. Holy shit, I say through my snorkel and let a swell carry me over her. As she passes under me, I see she's missing a chunk of her right back fin, but it doesn't seem to be a problem. She probably lost it years ago. Who knows what she remembers.
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