Four blocks from my home the elements conspire in perfection. As I walk along the firm grey sand, warm waves lap at my ankles, the sun warms my back and a breeze off the ocean hints of the heat to come.
Bathed in the sun’s warmth I become a caramel apple. Rich brown sun taffy coats my skin, emitting a buttery scent. It covers my crisp cool insides, ripe with sweet juice. It is 6:00am in November and other parts of the country are preparing for snow. Here short thick men with brown leathered faces and bare feet catch perch one by one and throw them into coolers where they flap their suffocation dance until they die.
No dolphins this morning, but surfers patiently bob up and down waiting for the perfect wave. I saw a few – those swells that become great translucent tubes, rolling down the coast offering rides to all who dare. It’s exhilarating just to watch from the shore, that same water, crashing against my thighs, surprising me with its force.
With heavy wet legs I walk, run, walk, run all the way home. Delighted to be alive, to live where I do, to be who I am.
I am so very grateful.