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Moments by the Sea
Moments by the Sea
Tony DeLorger © 2011
Eyes fixed on an endless sea, the horizon an illusion, like the end of a rainbow. The salt air bathing face and hair, refreshing mind and soul, invigorates and thoughts begin to take hold. A young mind peers into an uncertain future with hope, wondering about exploring the world beyond. It seems so vast and inaccessible but the urge to see it all is beckoning.
Below the encrusted rocks of the shoreline are battered by frosted waves, crashing and receding in a monotonous purging of silence. The sea is such a forceful yet tender mistress, one moment threatening, and the next lulling you into a half slumber. Being near it is so cleansing and its presence so beguiling.
Fanciful thoughts come and go as nature’s symphony plays on. Gulls hover in the incessant breeze, their cries echoing in the vast expanse of blue. Occasionally they look down into the swell, hoping for a quick bite, a shiny scaled morsel snatched from the surface.
Down on the beach the family are playing cricket in the sand, intermittent cries of ’how’s that!’ and ‘out!’ waft by with the changing wind. The summer sun is felt on brown skin, the tingling of warmth and cool breeze like tiny legs dancing, imbuing hearts with the magic of holidays by the sea.
Schoolwork gone, dried up sandwiches and warm drinks from plastic bottles, faded in memory, are put aside. That familiar smell of banana at the bottom of the schoolbag, still haunts, but is quickly dismissed in thought, left to another time and place. Thoughts of food come quickly; the question of a lunch offering is suddenly in mind. Rumblings from the ‘weetbix’ and banana are all but disappeared and that can only mean one thing: need food. Standing up on the flat rock beneath, a stretch cures all ills and puts life into an instant perspective; stomach, food, need, now.
Toes grip firmly the piled rocks and outcrops, one by one falling behind as the beach end comes closer. Crabs scatter and rock pools filled with tiny fish come alive as feet find hold on slippery surfaces, leaping over each microcosm of life toward the shimmering white sand.
With toes squelching in the wet sand, steps make imprints for the water to erode, one at a time, fading behind, as if there were never there. Around wigs of green weed, necklaces of vibrant aqua and shells of all shapes and sizes, steps narrow as the sand loosens and deepens underfoot.
The shack is within sight, family already in retreat from cricket, no doubt nestled up in the shade; the clatter of dinner plates and promises of lunch, imagined. Stomach rumbles empty; just in time. At the bottom of the steps, a quick glance to sea is made. The wind now fervent, beating hair erratically, makes eyes squint. The blue is overpowering, the sound relentless. Then another thought...‘I wonder what’s for dinner?’