Shadows will breathe

Shadows will breathe
"Careful. Evil has a way of making friends with the good and dragging them into the darkness." ~ Dr. Al Robbins

Tuesday, October 6, 2015

Favorite Vacation Spot

If you know me personally, you know I love to travel.  I will go anywhere the road takes me.  I am often asked what my favorite places are; Where I plan on going next; What I like best about the places I visit.  This is my answer:


Artwork via Peanuts.com


Where do you like to vacation?
The beach.
Any beach.
With enough sunscreen, I can hang out on a beach for hours upon hours.

What's your favorite thing to do there?
I love the feeling of sand in my toes.  I love to play with it; bury one foot and then the other.
I make sand angels.
I try and build sand castles; but am usually too lazy and too inept to use the right ratio of water and sand, and they usually crumble within minutes of construction.
When I get done sifting and sculpting the sand, I sit.
I sit and watch people as they pass by.  I watch their feet skim the water; the smiles everyone seems to possess at these places; the flip flops they're carrying in one hand.  I look at them with the eyes of a writer, wanting to know their story; their pain; their favorite movie.
I watch them come and go, knowing I may never see them again; feeling blessed I caught a glimpse of them and their relaxation; wishing them well and hoping they enjoy there time here.
After I'm done people watching. I stare into the abyss.

I can stare at the ocean for hours.
I watch the beauty of the waves as they dissolve into the clouds;
I get lost in my imagination as the blue from the water and the sky mingle;
I think of others who've come before me.
I try to imagine those who sat on this very spot in the sand.  I wonder if they, too, were awestruck by the beauty of the beach?  If they, too, gulped in the fresh air as if it were their last: and I wonder what they were like.  What brought them to this place?  Love? Solitude? Sadness? Maybe one too many margaritas?
I think of the water souls.  Those who have traveled the ocean.  Those who rode its waves; its calm; its storms. I think about those men and women who were so in love with the water, they gave up land to explore it; travel it; to make a living on the blue mass.  I imagine all those who traveled it for fun; for food; for treasure. I try to fathom the number of souls the ocean decided to keep...

Next, I get a drink.  Something refreshing like a Daiquiri or a Margarita or some blue vodka-based drink that makes my muscles relax a bit further.  Then, I pick up a book.  I read a few pages, take a few more drinks before all the ice melts and read some more.

As the fat old sun warms my bare skin and the cool island breeze brushes my sweaty brow, I nap.  I nap on a lounge chair near the water's edge; arms hanging off its side, allowing the salt water to lick the tips of my fingers as I fade in and out of luxurious slumber.

When I overheat, I drag myself to the water; allow it to lap my body with its cold refreshment.  I shiver as the sun plays peek-a-boo behind a tiny cloud - the only one in the bluest sky I've ever seen.
I dunk my head; spat the water from my mouth; dunk again.  The salt burns my eyes.  It feels marvelous.  I twirl a lock of hair and lick the salt from it.
The taste, Delicious.
The day, Peaceful.
My heart, Grateful.

~dpb~






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