wild like the sea

via dolorosa. strange name for a road at the beach, don't you think, among the 'sand piper way'-s and the 'palm tree lane'-s. it felt somewhat appropriate today, though. it began storming this morning while we were all still in bed and the clouds have persisted throughout the day. rain at the beach. dolorous, indeed.

but not enough to keep us wholly indoors. it was kind of nice to walk along a largely deserted beachfront. strangely peaceful. with thoughts that have been tossing and raging like the waves against the sand, emotions rising and falling like the tides, a bit of walking through the light drizzle did me some good. the world was at once quiet and roaring. and i felt drawn back into nature, bare feet sinking deep into the sand and what is usually meticulously-straightened hair blown curly by the wet ocean wind, wild like the sea itself. or, if not one with nature, i might have stepped into a Dali scene, with beached jellyfish strewed about like melting clocks.

while all of life makes me want to write in prose, there is something about the ocean that makes me want to write in verse, to dance and to sing and to love life and to feel connected to the larger everything. it makes me ponder the Almighty, who created such bizarre creatures as crabs and set the moon in place to pull the tides, and yet it also makes me feel like a child again. a child who last night was scared to walk on the beach in the pitch black of night for fear of stepping on said crabs under the meager light of only a sliver of said moon. the child who handed a pretty shell to her mother as they were walking along the beach, because, as she said, mothers always have pockets.

we've been a delightfully odd bunch this week--one mother who always has pockets and who loves the beach almost as much as she loves her children. her endearing boyfriend, who says 'vehicle' instead of 'car,' 'eatery' instead of 'restaurant,' and who drank one margarita too many while cooking hamburgers on the grill. one sister, who has been avidly watching Lost and discusses theories on the meaning of it all with me ad nauseum. one brother, who, on the beach at least, is still a kid at heart despite the ever-increasing evidence to the contrary. his girlfriend, who has puffy bruised cheeks from wisdom teeth removal and has been gumming food pitifully but with increasing success. his puppy, who has kept us entertained with his constant attacks on his own leash and who has reminded us of the true sensory overload that comes with one's first experience of the beach. one grandmother, whose sweet tooth is one of the few that can out-eat my own and who gave a kind listening ear to my thought-vomit on the 3.5 hour drive down here. one grandfather who is the silent backbone of the family, and who is probably more like me than i can know.

and me, the one who can describe the rest of the eccentric bunch because, as Paul might say, of these i am the worst. perhaps another would peg me as the pale one who carefully monitors the placement and proportion of any exposed skin under direct sunlight, but still comes home with odd patches of sunburn at the end of the day. truly though? the only way i can fairly describe myself now is transitioning. here, but not fully. thinking thoughts of what's passed and what's to come: 2 weeks in Atlanta, 2 days in Charlotte, 2 months in DC. delighting in the adventure of it all while still catching myself longing for normalcy every now and again.

like the ebb and flow of the water, life swirls forward.