There is a comfort in knowing if I stand in this exact place and look to the west, every July 15th at 6:34 am, when the sky is cloudless and clear, the sun will shine precisely on that spot, that rock. 

The trees around me will grow and die and fall, and the rock will probably be there for thousands of years, but that spot on the earth will always catch this July sunrise. 

No matter what is in this spot, I imagine the sun will hit it at this exact moment in the year till the end of my time and well beyond, the end of all time, I suppose.

That patch of dirt out on my back lawn is my particular and perculiar and private Stonehenge. 

Nothing is significant in this date or day or time,other than it was noticed at this moment, waiting for my coffee to perk. The comfort is knowing that as long as I can count on the sun hitting that spot next year, and the year after that  not everything is broken. 

So then, I take comfort in the laws of motion and inertia and gravity and particles of light, and not much else or many other things. My cousin is a scientist and he bought me a book on physics. He’s understands things, the mechanics of the universe. I don’t understand anything, I just need to know some things still work. 

I’m feeling a little windswept today, but not enough to billow my sails, or right this ship; the safe harbors are gone.  I feel at the mercy of the wind.