Jan 26, 2008 11:14
I think the sea is calling me. I know that sounds trite, and dramatic, like I am some ancient mariner being lured by the siren song of the sea...well, perhaps that is true in some existential way.
When I was a little girl, my father would often bring me to the beach to collect shells and observe all the funny little sea creatures that would come to visit on a cool, quiet morning. My father was a fisherman (by hobby), and I know the main reason for our trips to Sunken Meadow was to hunt and dig for mussels, which he would use as bait. As my strong father was digging down in the wet sand for these treasures, I would be walking along the sea line finding treasures of my own...sea glass and the rare razor clam shell were among my favorites. I was also intrigued by the tiny fiddler crabs that would run in and out of their sandy burrows and skitter along the shore. I had a love/hate relationship with the horseshoe crabs, which seemed more to me like huge, angry insects with gigantic stingers and beady little black eyes. I kept a respectful distance from them...admiring and fearing them from afar...and I am quite sure they did the same with me.
If I were truly lucky, I'd find some mermaid purses...a true treasure I never realized, at that age, were actually the egg cases of sharks. Everything was a treasure at that age...the sea was an endless chest of wonders...a treasure trove of living things and the gifts they would leave behind. My father would guide me over sand and rocks, telling me the name of everything I would find. At the age of 6, I already knew the difference between a scallop shell, an oyster shell, a mussel shell, and several varities of clam shells. I remember taking a class trip to a maritime museum where the tour guide showed a variety of different shells and, to the amazement of the guide, I was able to identify them all very accurately. If this guide were to move onto living fish specimens, I am sure I would also be able to amaze him with my vast knowledge of Long Island fish species...blue fish, flounder, porgy, snapper, weakfish, mackerel, sea robin, dogfish (also known as sand shark)...I could identify them all by age 6 or 7...for I had dangled them all at one point and time at the end of my very own fishing pole on my frequent trips with my father on his boat.
I owe this all to my father who took joy and pride in his hobby, and shared it eagerly with his daughter, who genuinely, and eagerly loved it all. It is no mystery to me, then, why I find myself mystically drawn to the ocean and all life held within it. I never consciously thought of this when I decided I felt kinship to the mighty shark and the mysterious octopus, enough so to have them tattooed on my ribs. I never consciously thought of this when Ed and I decided to take our marriage vows in the Atlantic Marineworld Aquarium surrounded by seahorses, sharks, a large variety of fish species and the mysterious giant pacific octopus. I never consciously thought of this when I would find myself guiding my car to Sunken Meadow beach on the days I have felt particularly down.
So perhaps I am some ancient mariner heeding the call of the sea? I asked Ed if he would go with me tomorrow to Sunken Meadow and collect sea shells along the beach. I haven't been there in a long time, and I have been having dreams and seeing signs around me that the sea is calling me to recharge me. I need to run my fingers along a smooth, sun-bleached white clam shell while listening to waves crashing and a sea wind howling in my ears. I need to feel that same childhood excitement at finding the various offerings of the sea scattered along the shore, while holding the hand of someone I love. I need to visit with my father who's ashes are scattered in this same sea...the sea he loved so much, and loved enough to make it part of the life of his daughter whom he also loved so much.