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Lived Through This
Finding My Own Waves
Rising and falling, over and over and over again
I’ve done quite a bit of musing while sitting on the beach this summer, and I thought I was done writing about it after my last piece. For anyone who thinks that I’ve been doing a tremendous amount of sitting on the beach, thus affording me copious time to ponder and ruminate, let me clarify: I’ve had a few lovely short bursts oceanside and since I don’t enjoy swimming (I know, I know), I instead do a lot of observing and contemplating. I get a lot of thinking bang for my buck.
Mid-afternoon today, while spooning kale salad into a bowl for lunch, I slammed the dish down and walked out of the apartment I’ve been staying in for a few days with A, the man I’ve been dating. I had been fighting back tears and rage for hours, and my throat closed as I considered the food I was going to force myself to choke down. I walked outside to the main road, and turned left, then right. It didn’t matter which way I went — I just wanted an inconspicuous place to weep — but I thought of the large family groups seated on sprawling wraparound porches if I turned one way, and quaint shops to my right if I turned the other. Neither seemed conducive to a big, ugly cry. I went straight instead, marching toward the beach. It would be quiet now, mid-week, and I pictured…
