I decided to share with you an old journal entry that I especially love.
It’s funny to me what solitude looks like.
I’ve left five people sleeping to come sit on the beach with my journal on the off chance I’ll find some peace.
Now I’m not the only human on the beach this morning, but there are precious few and they all seem to be walking idly by as I sit in my duck jammie pants in my low canvas chair.
I’ve become completely distracted with two little sandpipers running so quickly on their little bird feet in that timeless dance with the tide, pick pick picking at the tiny air bubbles to find a bit of sand crab breakfast. The first bird found a pretty big crab and carried it up the beach just past where the tide could reach immediately set it down and began to poke and pick at it, when she seemed to have gotten her fill she left the shell and skibbled off to see what else she could find.
I’m watching several of these quick little birds pecking the bubbly wet sand probing with their long slender beaks extracting shell after shell filled with their yummy crab breakfast, but all these birds are eating the entire thing, only that one little bird left the shell. I find myself wondering if that’s why she is so much smaller than the others I see this morning.
A little further up the beach a school of fish seems to have washed up and become beached the cool morning sunlight reflecting hundreds of silver flashes as they flip and flop gasping for water to breathe.
The waves that so cruelly deposited them on the sand come back just enough to tease them, to let them breathe for just a moment before moving back into the sea. Some of these little fish have been able to make their way back into the ocean but the ones left on the sand gasp and flounder once more.
I’m equally horrified and amazed by this scene, part of me needs to get up run down there and just start chucking fish into the sea, another part of me knows it will solve itself one way or another as it has done since the dawn of time. A young woman stopped and began to throw the fish back into the water…until the seagulls came…and then she covered her head and ran a bit up the beach before she looked back and slowed her escape.
The seagulls are overjoyed at the open buffet. They swoop down to grab a snack and move away a bit before enjoying the spoils, this goes on for quite some time and then as quickly as the scavengers came…they are gone.
There is no more silver flashing in the sun, and I am reminded of John Cleese and Michael Palin…those are “ex-fish”.