Thoughts from a Sunday afternoon at sea

Submitted by Debbie Bedrick
Written July 10, 2005

I.       I thought I was going to read.  But I was driven to write.  Words filling my soul, screaming, no, yearning to be let out.

The boat is gently rocking.  The wind has died, from a stiff so’wester to a much more gentle, almost southerly breeze.  And, as I predicted the seas have flattened with the ebb tide.

The people stroll along the beach.  They have come through the path in the woods, from up on the rocky bluff to return to the ocean.  Or they have come by kayak, small boat, sailboat or powerboat like mine to find peace and beauty, today.   A oneness with the earth, and the sea.  This small patch of rocky beach, bordered on one side by coastal waters, now lapping gently on the steep rise to shore, on the other side by the world of tidal marsh, where egrets and blue crabs, clams, and mussels, and the occasional oyster make their home.

It is there my men have gone.  To dig for the clams which I have promised to clean, and upon which we shall feast.

The sky is blue blue.  And so is the sea.  A clear clear blue on a blue blue day.  As the weak haze begins to build, the world around me is like a dream.  Fisher’s Island, remote from here, but accessible.  To the right in the distance the line of ancient Gardiner’s Island is visible, if you know what to look for.  To the right, Great Gull, then Plum Island.  Beyond that, tho I cannot see it, I know lies Long Island, Shelter Island.  Beyond Fisher’s Island lies Napatree, Block Island, Cuttyhunk.  Places of my dreams.

This is also a place of my dreams.  The breeze in my hair.  On my neck.  Sensual like a lover’s caress.  A beach, with people a part of it, but the tall grass, driftwood, beach roses, shells and beach glass still the dominant life forms.

The sea continues to calm.  As it calms it quiets my heart, my soul.  There are boats, each on their own journey, some flying, some cruising, many in no hurry to make port tonight and end this day of glory.  No truer words were ever spoken, or written “This is a day that God hath made.“  I wish I could live here forever.

If you have a place like this where you feel “home”, really home, and people you love and who truly love you then God has graced you above all others

II.     Even waves, the closest phenomenon to perpetual motion we have, will quiet and cease to exist without the positive energy they need to continue their forward motion.

By |2012-09-10T22:02:35-04:00September 10th, 2012|Ocean Stories|0 Comments

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