I went for a jog alone on the beach this morning, though I never felt alone. The sky was enormous and beautiful. The temperature was perfect. It was amazing. It reminded me of a quick practice write I wrote this summer, so I came home and dug it out. The prompt was to write of a favorite place: no edits, no corrections, no stops.
As an adult, I seek sanctuary at the beach. I enjoy it at all hours of the day, alone or with company. There is something – some change – that occurs as I cross the dunes via boardwalk. Be I lugging a wagonload, or traveling solo, the world fades to the back burner — no, the warming drawer — by the time I reach the soft, loose, hot sand. Time slows. The sun feeds my soul and the waves wash away my stresses and worries.
Daddy used to say that salt water was good for a wound – it has an antiseptic effect and helps it heal. This is true in more ways than one.
As a teenager, I can remember laying on the beach with my beau and feeling my senses awaken. Everything is heightened by the radiant heat and rhythmic rolling of the waves. The flashes of skin and muscle are teasing, taunting, tantalizing.
As a mother, I’m rejuvenated by the joy and energy that oozes from my daughters as they live and play carelessly.
There’s something freeing about sand. The reversibility and temporariness of it. Write in it – wash it away. Build something – knock it down. Dig in it – fill it in. As you bury yourself, so you bury your frets. Lying with your toes piddling with an impression in the sand. Watch the sand settle in the edges of your toenails and cling scantily to the curve of your calves and the back of your knees. There’s nothing better.
Focus on the horizon. Tun it all out. Quick – see the bird. Its smooth black head with platinum accents on stark white feathers. To be that bird. What must your days encompass? A brief flight here and there? Scanning and searching for a few good fish. A smooth, cool flight; rocking your body to maneuver and maintain.
Close your eyes. Listen to the radio next to you. What on Earth are they listening to? Does it matter? No.
How long since you thought of something that REALLY matters?
I love the beach.
