The Passing of a Day

18 08 2008

I sat perfectly still for so long this morning on the weathered wooden steps leading down to the beach that the swallows forgot about me and swooped within feet, catching insects and doing whatever birds do. And a couple of houses down, mother and son struggled to carry a plastic bin of toy trucks, scoops and buckets down to the water. I wonder how many tons of plastic beach toys are carried out to sea each summer, to be anonymously deposited at high tide in another country in six months or a year.

I’ve been observing the passage of a day at the beach, not really a part of the activity on the sand, just watching the sun come up and move across the sky. It’s a far more manageable pace than my normal day and I’m a little worried that I won’t be able to launch back in to life if I spend too much time at this. I suppose I’ll fetch another handful of bing cherries, watch the sun continue to move across the sky, and think it over a little while longer, maybe even nap on it.

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