I arrive after the storm to find clear
waters now deep and sparkling blue, flashing
in still pools on sand far darker than my
fall memories of running into this
unexpected solace in a warm land.
I return a year later in search of
the calm that once healed my devastation,
now looking only to be cradled by
warm waters, to bask on empty white shores.
The wreckage here stands as a monument…
Where we are together, we will be healed.
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Today has been a lazy dream of the best sort. Having been thoroughly exhausted by not enough sleep on Monday night and a three-leg flight yesterday, I went to bed relatively early last night. It was dark when I left Pensacola at about 6 PM, so I saw very little of interest until I woke up here, in Gulfport, Mississippi, and pulled my blinds open to reveal nearly blinding sunlight sparkling on the Gulf of Mexico before me. Due to the storm that came through yesterday before my arrival, the sand was much darker than it was a year ago when my sister and I stopped here to do cartwheels on the beach on our way from California to Harrisburg; the water was not the cool clear I remembered either, but a deep blue looking very much like the calm after a storm.
I sat at the desk in my room writing the above poem, pausing frequently to wonder at the beauty of the view from my window and giggle in glee at the old men exposing brown and leathered legs as they walked the sand in shorts and t-shirts. I wrote until my room service breakfast arrived, delightedly watching The Weather Channel report an expected high of 68 while I ate, then showered before putting my bathing suit on under my clothes and crossing the street onto the beach itself.
A cool breeze swept through what would otherwise have been perfectly warm air, but as it was I was still sorry I’d worn my jacket. Off it came, along with my socks and shoes, and I headed to the edge of the water. The shore line was dotted with tidal pools and evenly ridged with peaks and valleys just under an inch apart and with a height difference of about the same. They massaged my feet as I walked what must have been over a mile in the wet sand before stopping to sit by the water.
Every time I visit a cold beach, I marvel at those lying in bathing suits while I shiver fully clothed. They are dedicated worshippers of the sand and surf and though I cannot claim their level of devotion, I understood them a bit better today as I removed my shirt and lay, bikini top and rolled up jeans, smiling at the sun on my bare skin. I lasted only five minutes, though, before the wind picked up, not only chilling me but also sending sand into my face, so I again donned my shirt, socks, and shoes, and headed inland to walk back on firmer ground.
As I walked back on the top of the concrete stairs leading from the road to the beach (there was no sidewalk, only a curb and strip of grassy sand between street and stairs), I experienced the low point of my day as at least a dozen people honked, shouted, or whistled while they drove by. Some would say that I have asked for this or that, at the very least, I should be flattered, but that kind of attention makes me feel vulnerable in all the worst ways, especially when traveling alone in a town where I know no one. Moreover, I wonder at the motivation behind it — do these motorists expect that I am going to turn around, chase them down waving my arms until they pull over so I can thank them for the honk by giving them head? Perhaps that works on some girls, but I mustered my strength and made it back to the hotel without giving in to such temptation.
In my room I stretched out my tired legs and settled on the couch to read for a while, then crawled into bed for a brief afternoon nap. I awoke an hour later to the colors of sunset outside my window.
The picture at the top of this page was taken from the beach I walked today and was not a small part of my decision to return. My immediate thought was that I should chase this sunset, until it occurred to me that I had a beautiful view from where I lay and while I enjoy the hunt, there is no reason not to appreciate beauty just as deeply if it should come to you.
When the sun finished its slow descent, I got up to rinse the remaining sand from my back and feet before heading out to get take-out enchiladas and a six-pack of Corona, inspired by my siesta and the lack of good Mexican food in Harrisburg. Having finished eating while watching a special on Lee Harvey Oswald on the History Channel, I sit here now writing this. When I am done I will walk back out to the beach to sit on the sand and wish on the shooting stars of tonight’s meteor shower.
I will wish for more days like this one.