Seaside visions

Beyond the point where she stands, there is no passage.

Or at least, not without some shoes.

The ground just beyond her is littered with pine needles, sharp and painful to bare feet. And beyond even that, the sand itself becomes scarce; the beach giving way to rock and coral, too sharp to pass shoeless, too uneven for standard flip-flop wear.

I interrupt her solitude, and we exchange greetings briefly, remarking on the impeding lack of sand.

But I have aqua shoes, and I can press on, past this last point…
past where I can turn back and see anyone on the beach behind me…
past where I can see even the ship docked…

And then it is quiet, peaceful. The lapping of waves. The sound of the breeze, of seabirds.

I could almost believe that I am all alone here.

I could almost believe that I am the only person who has ever been here…
But the discarded plastic coke bottle I find just a little farther down dispels the illusion.

And then I must decide… Do I continue on, creeping over rock and coral, to see what I may see?

Or do I make my way back?

The reality is that the ship will sail at the pre-appointed time, with or without me.

The reality is that no one knows where I am, and if I run late or stumble and twist an ankle on these shifting layers of rock and coral, I will be on my own.

(Sigh.) Practicality is a drag.

So I head back. And as I make my way, I comfort myself with visions of frozen margarita goodness, virgin sourmix limeade, sweet and satisfying in the blazing sunlight.

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About aka gringita
Flotsam generator. Amateur photographer. Avid traveler. Christ follower.

2 Responses to Seaside visions

  1. She looks like somebody I would like to say hello to.

    I get that same feeling of isolation and serenity wandering around the Oregon coast, too.

    Like

    • aka gringita says:

      She looks like somebody I would like to tell people who don’t know better that I am. 😉
      Someday I’ll get out to Oregon, and be able to check out your coast for myself. Or so I hope!

      Like

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