Winter at the Beach

Being home full-time means that I am now officially back on the party circuit: baby showers, baptisms, graduations, weddings, wakes, birthdays, etc. Last week, a few days before the New Year, I was visiting family at the Jersey Shore for my cousin's baby shower. I awoke early one morning and decided to visit the beach, a mere 5 minute walk away from my aunt's house in Spring Lake, although at that hour and temperature I must confess that I drove the short distance. (Parking at the boardwalk is a dream in late December!)

I miss the ocean terribly. I saw it every day in San Diego and dipped my feet at least once a week. Since my return to the east coast I had yet to re-commune with the Atlantic and this particular morning, gorgeous, bright and crisp but not bitter, offered the perfect opportunity.

While the boardwalk was busy, the sand was free of traffic. I lingered for just a moment at the rail before stepping into the sand, so much crunchier than that of the west coast. It surprised me to see a sunrise over an ocean after all these years of sunsets. My tired eyes couldn't help but stare into the frisky sea, free of swimmers but not of attitude. I wanted so badly to dive in and swim to South America!; save myself the airfare and get a little exercise. My shadow tried to act as large as the ocean but inside I felt as tiny as the smallest shell.

All this self-reflection in the face of such natural majesty was invigorating; the scene so appropriate a metaphor for the imminent arrival of the New Year. We are already 4 days into it, and this morning began for me with another sunrise, viewed this time not by the sea but at first on the wall in my bedroom. A blurry hint of red until I could find my glasses and get to the window. The sky above the barren trees was passionately red and orange until it mingled with pink and then purple-grey-blue; a perfect pallette of the feelings of determination, hope, anticipation, and mystery with which I welcomed 2007.