Our mornings are developing into a routine.  We sit at the glass table in the kitchen, by the big bay window that overlooks the woods, sipping our coffee in silent companionship.  Michael is reading. I am typing away.  After a bit, I look up and ask, “So what is the POD?”

“Well,” he replies, “I thought we’d walk around Woodstock and see what’s there.”

A little before noon I appear downstairs, dressed and ready for walking…and shopping…and possibly spending…credit card at the ready.

Michael changed his mind.

At 12:30 p.m. we sit on the airy, semi-enclosed deck of a waterfront restaurant in Kingston, eating a light lunch–a calorie-laden light lunch–passing time till the ticket office of the Hudson River Cruise Line opens so we can purchase tickets for the 2 p.m. departure. We both love the water, and I’m excited to see the old mansions that line its banks. Leaving Rondout Creek makes promises to me of a two-hour trip filled with wonderful possibilities.

I stare at the water remembering the Harriet Wiles and the laziness of the Erie Canal. This boat goes faster. The river is wider. The water is rougher. The wind blows harder. The views, more distant.  The cruise, shorter. The price, infinitely cheaper.

I sit, looking out to shore—looking—looking—looking. The river banks are so far away that I will have to rely on the pictures Michael takes with his telephoto lens to show me what I have seen.