October Sun

It’s smack in the middle of October and I am lying on the beach. I am not trying to brag, but three years after moving, it’s still a little strange to be able to wake in the morning, eat breakfast in my home and drive twenty five minutes to the beach. I am still getting used to this.

All the years that came before this move told a very different story in October. By now, I could be hearing the crunch of dried leaves beneath my feet as I walked outside. The Midwest autumn would be in full swing. Even during my Seattle years, October meant change. It signaled the beginning of a period of months of rain as the days grew shorter and shorter. I  used to leave my job at 5:00pm and it was dark. I remember feeling like I lived in a world of darkness, especially there, under constant cloud cover and fewer daylight hours.

But that’s not my life anymore. While it may seem that I constantly long for places past, that’s not the case. I fall in love with places. They get under my skin, are the air that I breathe. When I leave, they remain embedded. They mold me, form me, become the root of all comparisons. I carry them, sometimes unwillingly, through every forward moment.

Back to my life here, at this moment, lying on the beach. As I write this, something catches my eye. To my right, a giant red ball rolls slowly along the sand toward the water. A woman’s voice cuts through this suddenly surreal scene. She tells the little boy running after the ball to go around the other side. I had gotten lost in the moment, in the breaking of waves and the easy movement of boats on the water. I was caught in the flow of writing, thoughts spilling onto paper when a giant red ball rolls by and I stop to stare.

It trips me up, it causes pause. I move from my towel to my chair in an effort to refocus. The sun is warm and the sand cool beneath my feet. I lose the moment and stare at the line where the ocean meets sky, two blues becoming the same. Seagulls cross my line of sight, crying. Tourists snap selfies, walk along the sand, pick up shells. The waves break and crash into the rocks, scatter shells on the sand. It’s peaceful and alive. I’ll carry this, too. This place, this moment, through all the days to come.