The setting sun created diamonds on Atlantic waves as they
eased onto the shore
of Crescent Beach. From
my seat beside the huge windows upstairs in the South Beach Grill, I could see
people finishing up their beach excursions, preparing to head off to find
dinner or another family activity to keep the kids happy.
The restaurant was right on the dunes, so I had a great view
of a group of teenagers as they sat bobbing on surfboards. On the beach a
father was futilely waving both arms in an effort to get their attention. They
didn’t see him or they chose to pretend they didn’t. Either way they sat
waiting, eyes on the horizon, looking for one more wave. One last wave before
calling it a day. One more ride. One more time feeling free before the world once
again closed them in its tight grip.
We had come to the beach south of St. Augustine for a quick getaway. Linda and
I both desperately need to be somewhere and do something that was not related
to a job or some other obligation. We needed to feel free, even if it was only
for a few days.
We rented a tiny condo directly on the beach. In the morning
we could sit on the balcony and watch the morning sun dance on the water. We
watched sea birds and shrimp boats as they went about their business. People
and dogs and played on the beach. At night the moon rose, casting the visual
equivalent of a siren song upon the softly undulating waves and the silent
sand.
We did some of the tourist things that one does in St. Augustine . We toured
the local winery and the haunted lighthouse. We even drank from the Fountain of
Youth (still waiting to see positive results from that). We found a couple of
local, non-chain restaurants where the food was great and the people were
friendly.
In the evenings, Linda and I walked on the beach. As we
walked, I looked alternately at the water and at the beach itself. I could see
signs of the people that had parked themselves there earlier in the day,
catching rays and running into and out of the sea. They had cleaned up after themselves,
leaving only footprints and the imprints of their beach chairs.
One evening, I came upon some words written in the sand.
“Rebecca loves . . .” someone had written in the unmistakable hand of a teenage
girl. I don’t know who Rebecca loved. The rising tide had washed away the name
of the other person. By now, that relationship might have gone the way of the
waves. Someone else may hold Rebecca’s affections, or perhaps she still holds
that person in her heart. I’ll never know. But I do know that Rebecca loved
someone, and that’s the most important thing.
I needed these few days more than I realized. I needed to
see the ocean and hear the waves. I needed to know that the world was different
than I had been experiencing. Living day to day sometimes gets in the way of
life. Thank God I have someone in my life that made me realize that we needed
to get the heck out of Dodge find something else.
After all these years, I’m ready to acknowledge that I’m
tired of always keeping to someone else’s schedule and being totally defined by
someone/something else. Sure, I have a job and I understand the need to work
within certain parameters. I have no problem with that. It’s just that I am,
after so long, realizing that I can say what I think and make my own choices. I
can pay attention to my own internal navigator.
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