Beach Morning

Articles

Holly Winter
Living The Life Of Holly

Beach Morning
June 11, 2003

I woke up startled. What time was it? I hadn’t meant to sleep in. Darn it. I flung my legs over the side of the bed. The sun was already up. I had missed sunrise. Darn it. I could sleep when I got home from vacation. Man. I had been waiting for this.

I slipped out of bed as quietly as I could. It was beach time. No. Not for sun. I burn after about five minutes of exposure. I was ready for my first early morning beach walk. I snuck around the room, found my bathing suit and pulled it on. I pulled on shorts and a t-shirt. It was probably cold outside. I tied a sweatshirt around my waist.

“What are you doing?” Darlin-man asked, sleepily from somewhere under the covers.

“I’m going out for a walk. Want to come?”

“Now? You are going out now?”

“Yes!”

“It’s only six o’clock.” He said, grabbing his glasses to be sure that I knew the time. Surely it wasn’t time to be awake yet.

“I know. I overslept and missed the sunrise. Are you with me?”

“No. You’re alone. Very alone. Have fun.” He smiled as he removed his glasses.

“K” I gave him a goodbye kiss as he snuggled back under the covers.

I rushed out the sliding glass door onto the patio. The sun was already glaring. Who cares? Nothing could ruin an early morning walk on the beach. The burst of hot air hit me. Oh yeah. The condo was air conditioned. It wasn’t winter outside, only inside. I peeled off everything but the bathing suit, I kicked off my sandals, pulled on my sunglasses and jogged down to the water’s edge. Warm. The water was warm. Oh. I don’t know. Maybe mid seventies? And it was already at least eighty degrees out side. This was my idea of perfect weather.

I turned left and started walking. There was nobody to compete with. I had the entire shoreline to myself. I know. I felt like a thief in the night. Only. I wasn’t stealing. This was part of the package. Surely I wasn’t the only one to know about the glory of early morning walking on the beach? Hello. This is the best part of the day.

There was sea grass that had spilled onto shore during the night. It made fantastic impressions in the sand from where it lay. Little crabs crawled around under the pieces. I walked just in the water so I could create splashes as I traveled.

I passed in front of the deserted resort. There were lonely chairs waiting for company and a good conversation. Ha. Not me. I was not about to sit still. Not now. I continued on past the dock and the restaurant. The beach turned rocky. So what. I don’t mind rocks.

I started hobbling from rock to rock, trying not to cut my feet. Ok. So. Maybe this wasn’t the beach walk that I had had in mind. I turned and walked back past the resort and headed the other way on the beach. Oh. Yes. This was clearly the right way to go. I was in the wilderness in no time. My only goal during this walk was to create footprints that would be erased by the next wave.

A little dog joined me.

“Hello boy. Walking this way?”

He wagged his tail, noncommittally.

“Ok. You’re invited. But. If you want to walk we me, you have to tell me some island secrets.”

The dog ignored my request, but romped nearby so that we were a team walking to nowhere on a beach to somewhere.

I threw a stick for my new friend. He fetched it and ran back to me so that I could throw it again. I did. We played the game over and over again. I leaned down to pick up the stick and found a perfect rock.

I know. I collect rocks that are in the shape of a heart. Only. They have to really look like a heart, on both sides. And. The rocks have to find me. I don’t spend my time digging around for them. This rock was a perfect specimen. I was delighted. I held on to the rock, and turned back towards home with the puppy dog close behind.

I met a fisherman on the beach.

“Catch anything?”

“Sure did!”

“Well. Where is it?”

“Threw it back.”

I was disappointed. “You are not a true fisherman. You know?”

He laughed. “I think that fish belong in the ocean. And my wife can’t stand to cook them. So. I play at catch and release.”

“Yeah. I bet that that way you can tell BIG fish stories, can’t you?”

He laughed.

The dog dropped me back at the condo which was too bad. I had already decided that it would be kind of fun to keep him for the whole vacation.

“Same time tomorrow?” I asked.

He wandered off after leaving me with a look that might have said, “Yes. See you then.” Or it might have said, “You’ve got to be kidding.”

I had yet to learn how to read Caymanian dog looks.

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About the author: Holly Winter is a teacher and a writer and a flight attendant living in Denver, Colorado, USA. She can be reached at her website or email: Holly@livingthelifeofholly.com

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