December 28, 2004

• The Ocean Calls

  
  

   

  
  

  Part I

  
  

   

  
  

  Safe and snug inside, there looms, outside, a thunderous crashing, a far-off warning.  The roar of the ocean dims, as the wind dies down.  The sea calms to a whisper in the dark, and the ocean beckons.  Come outside.  Come watch the dance and spit of waves breaking in the night. Listening to the roar, too far to see, is like standing on the porch of my old house, listening to the invisible noise of I5.

  
  

   

  
  

  I barely made it down to the beach, in time for the sunset.  I was almost there when I noticed the lights were on, at my favorite garden shop.  Remembering they have a screwy schedule, I decided to go back and make sure they were going to be open tomorrow.  Seeing “Closed Tuesdays” on the door, I parked and went in.  I mentioned choosing his shop, over the sunset, and as I surveyed the beautiful things, he surveyed the horizon.  “You can still make it,” he says, as I pay for the small trinkets I find:  Two clay, painted lovebirds, which have clamps.  They will perch, from a fir bow, over my fireplace mantle next Christmas. 

  
  

   

  
  

  I raced to the motel, checked in, and practically ran down to the sand.  Making my way to the water’s edge, there is still a band of orange, between the clouds and the sea.  It narrows and is the perfect backdrop against the spray, which spits and falls, dancing above the waves.   I could feel my solar plexus unclench.  My whole body relaxed, by degrees, as I stood there taking in the power and the beauty.  I feel so close to God here.  You know, up close and personal.  And I tell him whom I’m worried about.  I visualize them as they are, and then I ask for help in making them well, and I visualize them back to normal. 

  
  

   

  
  

  As I stand there praying for this special person, I am reminded of how insignificant I always feel, against all that water, and how comforting that is.  Being such a worrier sets me up for being a busybody.  Knowing my children’s affairs, when I probably shouldn’t, puts me at risk for intruding.  You see my comments.  You see how freely I offer advice; always sure I know what’s best.

  
  

   

  
  

  Standing before God, I am acutely aware of how little I should influence another.  My children will grow up to be the women they want to be, and the best thing I can do for them is to set a good example.  That’s really where my responsibility ends, as they get older.  And, as for all of you, please take my comments for what they’re worth.

  
  

   

  
  

  I walk back up to my room, wishing I had drinkable water.  Time for a run to the store.  On my way, I see a movie theater so I get a candy bar, too.  Snickers is my brand.  The movie is Spanglish, and I liked everything about it.  It was just the kind of movie I wanted to see tonight. 

  
  

   

  
  

  When I got back to the motel, I stood out on the patio, with my tea, looking down at the water.  It’s what I love about this place:  the close proximity to the water, that and the price.  The vintage is good, too.

  
  

   

  
  

  I stood in the dark, just outside my door, watching and listening.  I could hear those big waves crashing, too far out to see.  What I could see were the gentle waves lapping at the foot of the sand, edged in white foam.  I look up in the sky, behind the motel, to find the source of light.  It’s almost a full moon shining down, spotlighting the waves.  Looking back down, I see what look like three tiers of a skirt, edged in lace.  I’m off to bed now, to dream of dancing under a full moon wearing petticoats trimmed in lace.

  • 11:33 pm
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