Thursday, November 29, 2012

It's All Fleeting

(Written July 2005)

The air is thick and misted with salt from the ocean.  Heavy laden as it is, it is still cooler, much cooler, than inland.  The sun is just going down.  Colors of the sky deepen and get richer by the minute...almost seconds.  The sky somehow appears more dense.  A small plane passes over head.  I wave my arms in an over exaggerated ‘Hello,’ making the kids do the same.  From time to time, a pilot will wave back by rocking the planes wings side to side... it makes for an exhilarating moment.  Try as I might, I can’t get this pilot to return the greeting.
The waves roll in, in sequence.  It’s a thunderous sound, which just repeats itself with yet another thunderous sound.  Oddly each wave is connected to the previous, and equally connected to the one lurking.  A proverbial chain of sound... Mother Natures music...
Seagulls float on the wind currents above our heads, looking for handouts.  Sanderlings chase the waves in, and out... in... and out.... They look for that fleeting pause in the current, that momentary opportunity to forage for food.  Terns fly above, all the while, chirping and bantering with each other.
People meander along the shore.  Some holding hands, some curled up on blankets, some jogging.  Surfers are dispersing, only the die hards are left.  The tied is high, very high.
Wave’s beat the beach and break away huge chunks of sand... leaving behind deep ridges.  Alex and Charlee scurry along the waters edge.  Their footprints fall on what appears to be untouched ground.  Every few steps the water surges and erases any proof that their feet actually touched the shoreline.  A cascade of cleansing waves... compliments of Mother Nature and Father Time. Right there for all to see... if we could only be present enough to see.
The kids found a ridge to play on.  A virtual cliff in their eyes. They stood on the edge and watched the waves break at their feet without getting wet.  Amazing to them... What would be interesting, for me, is to see that wave finally break away the rest of their ‘cliff’... and watch them get soaked by Mother Natures wrath.  After today, I need a laugh....... 
Didn’t happen. Guess I’ll have to settle for tranquillity and bliss.
Charlee ran and skipped along, occasionally stopping to collect up another shell - she zig zagged to avoid getting wet.  Alex walked without much concern.  He was doing his own version of a chicken dance.
I - for the life of me - can’t figure how he moved his body in this pattern...
His body would jolt, and jerk, enabling him to raise his leg up straight in front of him... as high as he could muster... just so he could drive the back of his heel down, thrusting, actually mashing, it deep into the soft wet sand.  Over and over... jolt, jerk, mash... jolt, jerk, mash... What he ended up with, was a sort of convulsive version of a chicken dance... all be it... a wounded, mentally impaired chicken.  Something that, if there were more people around, I would have acted like I didn’t know him. ‘Who’s kid are you...?? Where’s your Mother?...’ But he was in his moment, and enjoying it greatly - so go ahead, my son, do your chicken dance.
We finished our walk, when the sun finished her job. There was very little light now... time to go home. We walk back thru the soft sand. Each of us looking for footprints from all the different species of birds... A kaleidoscope of prints... We found three types...
I, we, succeeded... we found a moment. Even with all the recent sadness and turmoil surrounding us, we found a happy place... Forcing myself, and my family, to walk the beach made me realize.... We have to make time to savor all of the flavors that life offers...
A thought comes to mind, bird watcher that I am... ‘No matter how good the binoculars are... you only see what you focus on...’

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