Distant Cousins

Posted: November 28, 2010 in Uncategorized

The sunlight rests upon the ocean. It makes the water look like it’s in fire. My feet touch the water and a million memories come flooding in at once. They arrive and depart so quickly that I’m left without a single image in my mind. Only the feeling of familiarity. Welcome back. I don’t think anyone outside of California would believe a beach could be empty on a day like this. Not a soul on this beach with me. It must be about 75 and breezy. The water is bearable. A palm leaf falls from the sky and crashes onto the bench next to me. The mountainous green hills come right down to the highway. Then sand and water. Out of habit, I start to grasp for this. I forget many times a day, and sometimes for many days, who I am. I only revisit truth once in a while and for brief periods. Sometimes out of sheer exhaustion, I give up only to find myself submersed in the peace and rest I’ve been trying to embrace. Maybe I don’t embrace it. Maybe the lesson here is that it embraces me.
The palm trees sway together, but not in perfect unison. Even the slightest variation in height or thickness or strength manifests in a unique rhythm. They all sway. They all belong here. They all belong here.
Catalina rises 25 miles out. It looks as if all the space between us, crashing with the sounds of ocean life, is only a valley that filled when water burst forth from the earth yesterday and 10,000 years ago. As if Catalina and I used to be close friends. Two halves of the same whole. Not distant cousins we are today. The sun warms whatever face I show it. It’s good to me.

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