Sometimes all I need to remember who I am and to get my head screwed back straight is to be beaten by the ocean for a while and watch my sweatpants float around my legs.
Today was one of those days when my head turned my world inside out and by 7PM I was certain Boyfriend and I were doomed to ruin one another's life, and I wanted the world and every stranger in it to go away. Not knowing what awaited me but certain the fix was lying in wait, I headed to the inlet- my old haven where down among the rocks and wave-bathing barnacles I could be a mermaid in paradise and solitude, just another piece of the sea.
I climbed out once last year but my 30-ish self was unsure and afraid of climbing. Tonight though, the fearless climber was back. So, however, was everyone else- and more graffiti than ever; and a teenaged couple making out in the daylight. The castle had been over-run.
Having climbed back to the surf line I stomped through the sand knowing I'll never return to Maine and leave my family behind again, but wishing and dreaming my self the Hell out of here all the same- houses on my left, people talking behind, and no where truly to run and hide.
Shortly I sunk my hind end into the sand and my back followed quickly, arms crossed beneath my head. If there's one thing I excel at, it's getting sand into every crevice even when fully clothed on a windless day. An ex, and later friend, of mine was convinced my body made sand. He'd find the stuff left behind in his sheets when I hadn't been near the beach for days.
This water has its way and the pools of gathering high tide collecting between rocks lured me out-I didn't mind my tushie getting wet if I sat to dangle my feet, but wouldn't it be more fun to stand in the water pits, and Remember when I used to jump in on a whim fully clothed?- Ah, now where might this be headed?
I grew up at the sea, and I know with my ears when to get away from an incoming wave, and I know how to turn my body to minimize the knock and the splash- and I know damn well how to get soaking wet only in up to my knees.
I could feel the smile on my face, and in my head, walking back to the car, sopping sweat pants sliding down my ass, sand gold and black stuck to my feet and calves.
And then the voicemail came from Boyfriend who hurt his knee playing softball and was in the ER, "Don't panic."-
and all that mattered was that he was okay, and I am so glad to be his Woman, and I can not wait to go spoil him on Thursday- the visit I almost canceled earlier, so blindly certain I was becoming his ball and chain.
Over my bed is a greeting card I bought myself, and framed and matted, of a young girl leaving her roof in flight, jacketed arms outstretched, to join the birds. I stuck a seagull feather under the nail in the wall, and every so often I look at her and quietly fly away myself.