October 13, 2011
Sadie and I are back from the beach.
I cannot believe all the money I have spent in travel dollars with this piece of paradise in my backyard. The tide was out. The sun was out. The few people on Double Bluff beach were walking along the tide line with no shoes on. It is October. The wind was blowing and I would have been uncomfortable without a coat. With curiosity I watched a grown man, in black wool dress pants, roll them up, take off his socks and loafers and walk out into the surf. He did not flinch from the cold. He must have sensed me staring at him, because he turned to me and smiled. Sadie ran to him at full speed and I was afraid she was going to jump on his nice clothes. I called her back and walked away.
The beach is dotted with driftwood shelters that give way to steep clay cliffs. Chunks of clay, no bigger than a teardrop to as big as a Volkswagon bug scatter the beach. Picking some up, it crumbles under too much pressure. It feels good to crumble it in my hands. Always surveying the sand and rock landscape at my feet, I find the remains of rock crabs, a huge crab claw, scallop shells, whelks and giant moon snail shells--all unoccupied. The ones that still had tenants remain on the beach.
While Sadie chased the surf out and back, I walked close to the water, letting each foot sink slowly until the ground compressed beneath it and gave no more. It was unsettling at first, to have each foot sink until I got the feel for it and did not fight it. Almost like an earthquake, when the ground moves on its own accord. Or life.
People bring their dogs to Double Bluff beach. While the humans walked past each other, each engrossed in their own musings, the dogs greet each other enthusiastically. They play until their owners move uncomfortably away and there is danger of separation.
I think that if they could, they would yell. “Wait. Wait. We want to visit more.”
Each time, I stop to let Sadie play as long as she wants. To follow the dog and its owner down the beach, me trailing behind looking for shells. Me listening to the water speaking in a thousand tongues. I do not have to understand anything. I can just be.
You would love it here. I feel it. I smell it. I taste it. I hear it. My sailor girl.
It is Thursday. I am trying to stay in the moment. I am trying not to think about reentry to my life on Saturday. I should have taken more time for this indulgence in solitude.
Until next time.
Love,
Mom
