The Beach

Looking out the sliding glass doors of the patio I see dawn breaking over the Atlantic. The oranges, pinks, blues and greys are just starting to form as the sun makes its way out of the ocean. I step out on the patio to find a three-quarter moon still shining over my right shoulder. The white foam of the breakers rolls onto the beach. A gentle breeze of late March is blowing in from the ocean. Way down the beach to the south, a lone walker leaves the first tracks of the morning.

As I watch, the scene changes quickly. The Sun seems to move so fast at its rising. So does the activity on the beach. A flock of gulls has settled on the sand and scavenges for breakfast. A pair of brown pelicans sail silently just inches over the water looking for their first meal of the day. The sun, now a fiery ball, is completely out of the water. Though still visible, the moon has taken on a hazy glow as it hangs directly over the surf off to the south end of the beach.

The morning claims the left as the night clings to the right. An eerie mix of the past and the future, with the present wedged in the middle. So each day is that, the present fighting for its place as what is, between what was and what might be. Reality dictates that "what is" must be all, for this moment is the only thing we really have, since the other two just exist in our memory and imagination. For two things that don’t exist, we spend an awful lot of time thinking about them, the past and the future. Where we came from, how we got here, where are we going, how do we get there, these are the intrusions on the here and now.

The chill of the morning air brings me back as I wish for a jacket to fend off the breeze. The constant "shhh" of the breakers with an occasional "humph" as one rolls over on it’s self is punctuated by the cries of the gulls now flying up and down the sand. Another day begins. What will it bring? What will I bring to it? The sun, now too bright to look toward, is on its way up. What a wonderful day!

Circa 2005