The Coast

Thank you God for good days. Yesterday Jan, Ross, and I went to the coast. We stood on dramatic ocean cliffs and let the cool ocean wind rush into our nostrils, catch our breath, and whip our hair around. After a long muddy hike we dropped onto the Indian Beach and the space around our heads expanded. The sun was shining on bare arms and faces. There is something about the wonderful ache of bare feet on rocks, in sand, and in the frigid ocean tide that is reminiscent of teething. I sat down and leaned back onto drift wood that cradled my head perfectly. I'm sorry you weren't there. As if $2.50 happy hour burgers weren't enough, the day was wrapped in a bow of orange, pink, and blue. Catching glimpses of color over the brick-a-brack border of ocean houses, we pulled the car over and frantically stumbled our way down a stairway that was built for such a time as this. And there it was. 20 minutes later I walked slowly back up the stairs feeling flushed and exhausted, like I'd just had a good long cry. Jan and I accompanied Van Morrison all the way home through the rain.