I stood today with my feet in the Pacific for the first time this year. I hadn't meant to end up there; I was downtown buying books and seeing a doctor (well a nurse actually) and my feet sort of just carried me down to the water.
It was a gorgeous day today, sunny and warm with a late-afternoon golden hue sort of shining around, like the 70's special effects in Xanadu or something. I found a comfortable place in the sand to sit and read, with my back against one of the huge rocks that make up the seawall.
Down the beach these two people were playing these giant Carribean xylophones, and their happy melodies drifted closer and further away from me with the wind as I read.
I ended up taking off my shirt, socks, and shoes, and rolling my jeans up Tom Sawyer style. I'm practically translucent from spending my winter indoors, mostly in front of the screen that is lighting these words as I write them. I'm still struggling to overcome my hibernation instinct that has grown from many years spent in my frigid homeland.
The sun was so warm, and I sat there happily and watched as birds searched the sand near me for some sort of hidden bird treasures. I could feel the insect tickle of a fly or ant on my skin from time to time, but it only made me feel more content with my little spot in the sand.
I noticed after some time that the Carribean music had stopped, but was replaced by a guy playing his guitar, sitting on a rock not far from me. He played a happy song, one that had no words and didn't need any. He noticed me watching him and we both smiled. I was glad to hear the music flowing from his hands, and I think he was glad to be sharing it with someone.
After a moment, both our attention drifted back to the sun as it slowly sank toward the ocean.
It was a gorgeous day today, sunny and warm with a late-afternoon golden hue sort of shining around, like the 70's special effects in Xanadu or something. I found a comfortable place in the sand to sit and read, with my back against one of the huge rocks that make up the seawall.
Down the beach these two people were playing these giant Carribean xylophones, and their happy melodies drifted closer and further away from me with the wind as I read.
I ended up taking off my shirt, socks, and shoes, and rolling my jeans up Tom Sawyer style. I'm practically translucent from spending my winter indoors, mostly in front of the screen that is lighting these words as I write them. I'm still struggling to overcome my hibernation instinct that has grown from many years spent in my frigid homeland.
The sun was so warm, and I sat there happily and watched as birds searched the sand near me for some sort of hidden bird treasures. I could feel the insect tickle of a fly or ant on my skin from time to time, but it only made me feel more content with my little spot in the sand.
I noticed after some time that the Carribean music had stopped, but was replaced by a guy playing his guitar, sitting on a rock not far from me. He played a happy song, one that had no words and didn't need any. He noticed me watching him and we both smiled. I was glad to hear the music flowing from his hands, and I think he was glad to be sharing it with someone.
After a moment, both our attention drifted back to the sun as it slowly sank toward the ocean.