The beach helps me to clear the chaos in my mind.
It is a dark and wonderful place inside here. As I move through life I collect more thought and ideas and distractions that often remain within that dark theater, playing over and again like short reels on a mix. This makes it hard for me to think, let alone write. The chaos is commanding, leading me down the slippery slope of one rabbit hole or another, never staying on the task at hand. Any new distraction becomes primary, the writing—the work—at hand being of immediate secondary or even tertiary concern. I cannot function that way.
The beach offer briefer interruption. I have no internet and all of its wondrous distractions. All I have are my thoughts, my programs, and the handful of people roaming across the expanse of gray-brown strand. Those few interruptions are welcome, even entertaining or at least thought provoking. An avid people watcher, I often imagine the lives of the people streaming past me—even more so the ones who choose to interact. What courage it must take to approach a stranger and comment on their actions or even dare ask them what they are up to. I get a lot of that here. I get a lot of unusual here, from the occasional eagle to the Mannequins on the balconies, to the deer and on.
I will miss the beach most of all when we move on. I will miss my solitude and my focus. I will miss the opportunity to listen to the waves lapping against the shore, the unusual people, and on. I am here today, reflecting on this being one of the last days to be here. Weather will mar the missile of the week, and then it is time to celebrate marriage and family. Then it is time to spend a few more days together as a solitary couple before we return home to the kids and to that life centered around work and football. I like this life better. I love the peace, and the time and space.
I love this place.