Observing the beach reader
The dull, hollow roaring is ever present. The nonstop sound of the waves is eternal, never ending. It’s known as the ocean, the sea, or perhaps a sailor’s mistress.
She is known by many names. I sit in my folding chair at the end of day, wrapped in my blanket, appearing to read. In actuality I am staring off into the horizon. The lifeguards have all gone home with the tourists. All that remain to witness this lady’s endless song are the locals. They shamble along the shore. Gathering bits of flotsam and shells that hold interest for them. They remark to their significant others about the most interesting bits they’ve found. A dog barks in the distance while out for its evening stroll. Dog owners laugh and throw sticks into the surf for the dog’s enjoyment. These temporary renters of the beach are greeting neighbors and friends before turning in for the night and having their supper.
I stop my gazing and close my eyes. I am just breathing in rhythm with, and listening to, the shush and crash of the water as it melts sand back into the belly of the sea. It swallows giant bites of shore, that fragile barrier of sand is all that holds the destructive force from me. I am not worried, but I am aware of, and respect the power behind each crashing wave. Bubbles of froth coat the shoreline as each wave ebbs. There are dark bits of seaweed piled in drifts. Tiny crabs skitter amongs it. Shorebirds cry out their displeasure of the sea as it alternately deposits, then hides the tiny crabs in different places. The crabs are smart, they’ve figured out the rhythm of the waves, but the birds are smarter and get the food they need.
Sunlight slants through the shelter behind me. Reminding me that evening approaches, and with it, cold chills and even cooler ocean breezes. I hesitate just a bit longer. I try to finish this portion of my ‘ book’. I can’t seem to put the tomb away – so anxious am I to get to the ending. Yet, I also hesitate to get to that same ending. I know that these moments are precious and fleeting in nature. This day is ending and I really don’t know when I’ll be able to return to the side of my new friend. I love to talk, to share, to listen to her day. Her voice is consistent and methodical and it sooths me. I will miss her when I leave.
