Sunday, June 12, 2011

Running Away

Today I ran away to the beach. I got up in the morning and without allowing the logical side of my brain to turn on, I got in my car and  drove to the seaside. Through the city, over the bridge and along the maze of streets that get narrower the further east you go. The air changed, you could smell and hear and almost taste the ocean. The wild ponies that roam the Maryland shore welcomed me as I turned my car into the beach parking lot.

There is something almost primeval about the beach, something that is natural to us before we got so complicated. I feel so at home at the beach, like it is where I was always suppose to be.  

I walked along the shore collecting seashells, poking deadwood as I dreamt of the pirate ships they crumbled from, and quickly skirting  away from any sea monster that didn’t quite look dead.  

After my treasure hunt, I found a patch of sand I could call my own and planted my little red chair. I laid on the warm sand and closed my eyes and listened to the universe’s whispers in the wind and waves. Then, as I dug my toes into sand that reminded me of brown sugar, I read a book. An entire book, and maybe found a little sleep.

Then it was time to go. I felt the warmth on my skin, and realized for the first time that day that I forgot to bring sunscreen. I went and stood in the cool water one more time and said a couple  prayers for the waves to take back to their Maker. I let go of some of my fears and worries, sending them off, hopefully, to be lost at sea forever.

 I know that shouldn’t make a regular habit of running away even on weekends. But for one day, it was the perfectly right thing to do.

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