November 26th, 2009. 9:52 am.
I am on the beach alone today, sitting in the sand with my runnin shorts on, reading aloud to myself and the small breeze that hears me. When I look up at the ocean, I feel only gratitude. Pure. Thankful.
* * * * *
I put down my book in the sand by my face. I am on my belly now, but I stand up and brush off what sticks to me. There is a place in the shore now, a print of myself by my book and my shoes. I leave it there; I've stood-up to do cartwheels. I haven't entirely realized this until I am already doing them. And soon I am running in between. Running and flipping, my eyes open and closing. I used to do this when I was younger. I'd draw a line in the sand and play gymnast on my balance beam. One step at a time. One flip. One turn. Then I am pickin up a purple rock and watchin the little girls in rainbow colored clothes. It's their hair I am watching, wild and curly, red~gold like another country. They take careful steps toward their sleepin mother in the blue dress and all the while their hair is bouncing, blowing, spiraling. I have never had hair this way-- so defined. My hair is curly, straight, and in between. It is up and down... sometimes both... red, brown, and blonde. This is exactly how I feel-- malleable. I have always felt like I am in the middle of a transformation. I see another rock in the sand and I think I like it... it is not purple or green but all colors at once and more. I hold it in my hand or a second before I step back and throw it hard into the ocean. Because I know I should. And like the cartwheels it is flying before I understand why. One flip. One turn. A balance. Some things are this way for me-- I know I cannot keep them.