My favorite spot of sea is brackish brown, not the topaz splendor of the Mediterranean or Caribbean. My sea laps with waves dyed brown from tannins, as though those waves had been licking a tootsie roll pop before coming over to nibble my toes.
My favorite spot of sea a salty mug of tea stretching from my toes to the horizon.
My favorite spot of sea frequently whips itself into such a frenzy that we walk and jump and twist through a crest of foam reminiscent of a freshly frothed cappuccino.
My favorite spot of sea anchors me with its dependability. I know its boundaries, although it often tries to trick me by rearranging the shoreline like a game of Memory. I know its granite breakwater groins. I know where a small, cold stream of water darts out of the groin at low tide. I know the flat line of horizon that teaches me to line up my photos in an exact rule of thirds, sharper than any line I could draw with pencil and ruler. I know that if I gaze far enough across that horizon line and ride the roller coaster hill of the earth’s curve, I can halloooo to Portugal.
My favorite spot of sea calls me back year after year, childhood after childhood, memory after memory, sunrise after sunrise. For as much as I change, that same sea waits to greet me and my toes. It’s a brown puppy dog, never growing older, never flagging with energy, never giving up on its waving invitation to draw me in. Come, my sea beckons wave after wave, come, come play, come.
Day 29 of 31 days. For the month of October, I’m joining in on 31 Days of 5 Minute Free Writes. Following the rules to write an unedited response to a prompt in 5 minutes, I’m grateful for the challenge of Write 31 Days.
Like The Giving Tree.