A Moonlight Walk By The Sea

It may seem impossible that on an island, less than half a mile wide, I could go more than twenty-four hours without seeing the ocean, but I confess it is true. From my life's vantage point the sound cannot be avoided, but the ocean is hidden by a dune. This reality is absurd, I admit. It gets worse though. I work on the beach sometimes and don't really see it. I might check the surf while I repair a dune walkover, or register the blue mass to my east as I peel some brittle shingles off of a roof. But I forget what it is. The edge. Sure we can fly over it in a plane. Ships ply the seas. Humans have all but mastered the sea. But a human can't. Without the wisdom and infrastructure of a species, the ocean is much more daunting. And their in is the beauty. It can be hard to be humble sometimes, but never by the sea, when you truly see it.

We walked a moonlit beach. The air was crisp, almost crystalline. The sea was calm, lapping at the shore. On our way home, from a hilltop near our house you could see the orb of the moon washing the ocean's surface in light. The silhouette of each house floated on the silver sea before it. A postcard photographer could not have hoped for a more ideal night. A young man seeking the hand of his beloved would have thought the moment magic. Pure magic.

In reality however. . . my dog patrolled the beach looking for smelly smells. My daughter threw her head back in her baby backpack hollering at the stars and torquing my lumbar region. She alternated between whining about "bat monsters" she saw among the dunes (annoying) and babbling about wanting to marry me when she was a "growed up" (heart melting). My wife froze, quietly. And I tried to explain to my child, who was professing her undying love for me, and fear of bat monsters, that she would be able to see the lighthouse light better if she used more energy for her eyes, and less for talking. Yes, I did that.

I mentioned to Deanna that we should make a point to do these winter beach walks whenever it was bearable outside. She agreed. The thing is we weren't on the beach tonight because that's the reason we live here, the right thing to do, or the only thing to do. We were on the beach because I worked too late to go to the gym. I work too late too often, and worry about work too much when I don't work too late. Because of this, and probably because of my love for the barley pops, I'm told by members of the medical profession that going to the gym is probably a good idea.

So, when I run out of time to go run on a treadmill, I strap my kid on my back, and walk briskly through a scene that should be strolled through. My cold wife by my side, who should be being warmed by my arm around her. My dog by her side, who should be allowed to wear dead seagull perfume if he wants to and then sleep in the garage! And my daughter, on my back, who should be tired of talking to me by seven at night, because she has already had my undivided attention for several hours.