I walk out of the office at the end of the day and let my pleasant smile fade. I remove a jacket, a dress and ease into something more comfortable. I ready the kids for bed hearing their stories of the day. Layers of responsibility, of reminders and to-dos, of worries fall off of me, if I’m lucky, and I find my rest. When I rise the next day I apply my makeup and my steady, pleasant smile.
A layer of tiny water droplets suspended in the atmosphere obscures visibility beyond Bar Harbor. The islands that dot the coast have disappeared. The eye has no where to look but to what is at hand.

Layered