Simplicity

Do you remember the night we sat out on the jetty?  The sun sank low over the harbor and cast a orange-pink light over the ocean as it rushed into the inlet.  We sat barefoot on the rocks as the currents swirled just a few feet below us.  We didn't talk much.  We didn't have to, really.

Do you remember that?  I do. And it leads me to this... 

When everything falls down, when all seems at a loss, there is always the constancy of life: the sun always sets. The ocean continues to crash. The moon runs through its phases.  Seasons come and go.  We breathe in and we breathe out.  One foot in front of the other.  And, at the end of the day, we nestle down and drift off to a warm, sound sleep so that we can greet the dawn again with fresher eyes.

We must remember the simplest of things.

Unwritten In November

The summer lingers in my mind even as the cold of the impending winter bites into my bones.

- - -

The boardwalk was surprisingly busy for a Saturday in November. An older, heavy set man strolled passed me with his face shoved into a bucket of Thrasher's french fries. (I smiled because, if you know anything about Thrasher's, then you understand exactly how reasonable that is.) Seagulls squawked and picked at the remains of fries and funnel cakes left on the ground. The arcades were open: the music of bells and whistles streamed out into the chilly afternoon air. A little boy ran up behind his sister and pulled the trigger on a neon orange cap gun. Startled, she smacked him on the shoulder and then returned her attention to the guy behind the Atlantic Stand counter.

I zipped up my jacket and blinked as the cold wind swept through the crowd. I kept walking. Life goes on. It must.

Just a few months ago, the summer blistered our bodies. The days reached over 100 degrees; there was little relief from the heat and the haze and the humidity. We passed those days on the beach... under umbrellas, icy bottles of cider in our hands, our blanket just a short sprint from the cool refuge of the ocean. The clouds never lingered too long. We laughed and talked and day dreamed. And, although the sun was burning everything in sight, life seemed easy.

We stared out, straight ahead... The horizon was endless. A perfect blue line between this world and heaven: it looks like a promise stretched out in front of you. Your eyes get lost in the expanse of it and your mind wanders towards the unseen edges. Everything and anything is possible. The future is unwritten. All you have to do is believe.

Just believe.

I spent those days with my head lost in the spaces between the sand and the breakers, that little place where the sea foam bubbles up and quickly fades away. I did not care how much the sun burned my skin: the only things that mattered were the sounds of laughter, the smile of a friend, the wishes made on falling stars, the pulse of the sea, running for miles in the last minutes of daylight, watching the sunrise, stealing a quiet moment to enjoy a fiery orange moon, and pushing towards that horizon full of unknowns.

Because I did believe. I still do.

But now, walking the boardwalk, all zipped up in a thick jacket with my hands buried in my pockets to keep them warm, I couldn't help but feel the pangs of sadness in my heart. I miss the warmth of the summer. I miss the feeling of the sun on my skin and the sheer exhaustion of an afternoon in the Atlantic. I miss the days lasting longer into the twilight and the moments when night finally came and the stars emerged from a black velvet sky. I miss lying on my back and begging for one to fall down.

My eyes traveled ahead. Many of the stores had closed up for the winter and that further served to reinforce that my summer was gone. I looked out towards the ocean, over the sand, towards that beautiful horizon... The cold air brought tears to my eyes. (Or, at least, that's what I told myself.)

As I turned around to head back, I tried to shake the lonely feeling that had rooted down inside of me. This wasn't going to be forever, I reminded myself. It's just a temporary hibernation. The seasons come and go as is their very nature. The cycles must complete: summer to autumn to winter to spring to summer again. This is how life works and we cannot stay in one frame forever. We shouldn't.

I glanced again, this time over my shoulder, at the sand stretching out towards the sea and the sea pushing against the sky. When the winter comes, I will seek refuge in my warm memories of a glorious summer. And, when the spring comes and all the brown turns to green again, I will emerge too... a stronger version of me. Growing and rebuilding. The sadness will be flushed out. After the days and months ahead, my eyes will be clearer and my heart will be healed.

And when the times comes, I will shed my winter skin. I will be ready for the strength of my summer sun.

Stop

When my eyes opened this morning, after dreaming of the desert, I realized that my world had stopped spinning.

It was 6:00 a.m. and everything was dark, save for the glow of my alarm clock. I sat up and swung my feet over the side of the bed. I stared at the floor and thought of the desert. (The dream made little sense, as is typical for my dreams. I was dressed for a blizzard, standing on a cliff in the desert, staring down into a narrow river. I wanted to jump in...) The sunrise was moments away, I knew, but I turned to wedge my fingers in between the blinds just to double-check. Darkness. Back to the clock. Three minutes had elapsed since my alarm went off. Just a few minutes, but it felt like an eternity.

Time works that way when you realize just how lonely you feel.

Over the past several months, I have loved and I have lost. Some fell to natural causes, a couple were taken away by the fickleness of the human heart, and one was murdered. I moved, I worked, I ran, I tried, and I didn't stop. Life swelled like a tidal wave in front of my eyes. But the end result of these difficult months is this: I am alone. And completely by choice.

Change is often thrust upon us... and sometimes, we have to choose it.

The tolls have made my heart heavy and left me without the desire to write a single word. The blank page wasn't an enemy - I simply had nothing to say. This terrified me because writing has always been my fail-safe. When little else made sense, I had words and pens and empty lines on paper and they always helped. But, this year, it's been increasingly difficult for me to get what lies in my head and heart out... the disconnect was everywhere.

But I am determined to find my way back to the page, back to words. I know life runs in cycles and this cycle is a rough one. But although there has been little poetry and much drama, both comedic and tragic, I know that it has not all been bad. The tears and upheaval have been punctuated with bright stars, laughter, and glimpses of a blue horizon. There were many good days. I hold onto those minutes of happiness because I have to.

This morning, I felt alone. Tonight, I am surrounded by words and a couple of blank pages. It is a solitary comfort, but I'm grateful for it.