Monday, April 14, 2008

Random writing sample

I went to the beach. I sat there, back against a log abandoned by the sea with my feet buried in the sand just far enough to leave only a sliver of red toenail polish in view. It was an unseasonably warm 75 degrees and the sound of the waves crashing against one another sang me into a sort of slumber. I leaned back and closed my eyes. I could feel the sun reddening my cheeks and was tempted to take off my sunglasses preventing a return to work with eyes mimicking the mask of Zorro. Alas, the brightness of the sky kept me from doing so. I breathed in and out. In and out. The ocean always seems to have a smell to it. It’s the smell of summer; the smell of salt water and warmth; the smell of camping and sunscreen. I breathed it in. My mind began to wander. I opened my eyes again and looked out across the beach. I saw a small boy, running as fast as he could; not towards anything, just running because he could feel the freedom of the sand against his bare feet. His parents followed several paces behind carrying blankets, bags and buckets. Looking the other direction I saw a couple walking hand in hand along the edge of the water. With each wave, I saw the water come in, leave grooves the shape of feet and pull back out into the body of water. The couple, with pants rolled up to mid calf and shoes swinging from their free hand, did not seem to notice the signature they were leaving on the beach. They too were headed towards nothing in particular, but were simply embracing what the ocean had to offer. As time wore on I began to feel as if I knew the people I was amongst. I became familiar with the family as I learned the borders of the young boys freedom. He could go past the log but not as far as the wet sand. I learned that dad was at the beach to relax and not to build sand castles as I saw him pop open a beer and sit back in his beach chair for the rest of the afternoon. I saw that mom did not enjoy the sun, since she wore long pants, a large floppy hat and was constantly applying sunscreen to not only herself but both men in her life. All around me I watched people interact with each other, never for a minute forgetting the power of the beach; the power to bring people together; the power to wash away anything else. As the weather began to cool down and the rumbles in my stomach signaled it was time to head home, I stood up slowly and began to wipe the sand from my legs, then my feet. I hated wiping it off, knowing before long it would be “something I did earlier in the day.” I wanted to have sandy feet all day, to take with me a bit of the peace the beach offers. But I knew I couldn’t. I had to simply remind myself it would be there waiting for me to return. And when I did, there would be another family, another couple, but still the same sand and still the same water.

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