Tuesday, September 18, 2012

September 17, playing hookie at the beach


All of everything has slowed nearly to a stop in this resort town by Lake Michigan. There is almost no one at the beach besides us: my daughter, my grandson and me. The season is past. Just a few shore birds and walkers, and a couple of late swimmers: one very large man who came dressed all in black and now dives in black trunks, and the thin woman in a black bikini with him who shines like chrome when she curls up and down in and out of the teal water. The day is summery still, except for one or two fiery trees on the dune, and a thinner morning sun. Only the wind hurries on like a woman tugging her child to school or the next errand: Hurry, hurry, hurry up, honey. But oh, sand clings to my baby grandson’s chin where he has drooled, and I rejoice!  Waves inside me clap with white-capped hands over how he face-plants this moment! He eats the sand, he blinks it, he sifts it through his chubby greedy fingers (but we know he will only, can only, take a small token of what is within reach). Then, like a grain of sand I kiss him. And cling.

11 comments:

  1. Joy was the first word that came to me too:) September is the best month of all at the beaches and on the water in RI. The crowds are gone, the water is warmer, the breezes are perfect. Hopefully I will get to take the grandchilren to the beach this weekend...

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  2. Lovely piece of writing, Ruth. For some reason I was reminded of Virginia Woolf.

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  3. The beach is a wonderful place to let go of the rest of the world, and let in the joy that pure love brings. Beautiful piece, Ruth, beautiful peace.

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  4. Sometimes the love just wells up and spills over! I love the image of you and the sand kissing and clinging to sweet baby James. Enjoy.

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  5. Beauty and joy, joy and beauty. Thank you.

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  6. Thank you, dear friends, for dipping your toes with me into these sandy moments of bliss!

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  7. I love the feel of the sand between my toes and the feel of the water rushing over my feet and to breathe in the air that comes off the Lake Michigan.

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  8. I fell in love with him and you-with-him all over again when I saw him...and then read this.... Keep eating him up. You'll come back for more!

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All responses are welcome.