I don’t exercise. I’m really a rather lazy lass. But, after ten weeks of watching tantalizing sunsets from the third-floor balcony, I submitted my SMS to the Government so I could get the nod in order to take a stroll and see the sea.
I met my mate, and we two-meter marched, one behind the other, like an odd parade, off to the beach for an unobstructed observation of the Sabbath sunset. And yes, we felt the footwear should come along, too.
It wasn’t stupendously spectacular. It didn’t set the night on fire. But the crescendo of crashing waves, the glimmer of gold reflecting from the ripples of the mercurial silver sea, and the slow slide of the setting sun touched me deep within and made me cry.
Even the seaweed-y smell, the bites of billions of invisible bugs and the toughness of the rocks I tried to perch upon to get the perfect picture made me cry. With joy. And relief. And gratitude. Because I have waited for weeks to witness for myself the magical Med, this omnipotent ocean.
And when the horizon yawned wide and swallowed the sun, I felt the peace I have impatiently waited for.
So my pal and I sprawled across the sand (at an acceptable measure away from each other) so we could catch on camera, for your viewing pleasure ~~ Socks at Sunset by the Sea…. Part 2, perhaps?
I didn’t enjoy all that walking, by the way.
Layne Cain uses the Hashtag #laundrywithlayne