Undertow
I made it to the water. Like a fish heeding the call of its ancestral pools, I was pulled down to the Gulf despite exhaustion, weather, and work. For all the years that I've come to this same place, I've always gone down to the water no matter how late in the night I arrive or how tired I might be. Tonight was the closest I've come to missing that moment. But I convinced my family that I was alright for the journey down to the shore. Half a watermelon and two shots of vodka later, I made the slow journey through the night.
I laid on a chair and watched the lightning storm that I'd been chasing in my car for five hours. In my peripheral vision, the neighboring buildings only gave dim light (a preventative measure to not confuse sea turtles in search of nesting grounds). The buildings were like the last outposts of human civilization deep in space. Before me, everything was black. There was no delineation between the sea and the sky. Only staring could reveal the shapes and shifting patterns of aether into an "above" and "below." The sky churned and condensed until it erupted into explosions of light, and the darkness curled upon itself to make whitecaps. Here was the making of a dark universe, a view past the assumptions of humankind and a glimpse at the destructive power of nature.
Only two years ago, I laid on this same beach chair during a sunset. I had been talking on the phone with my partner when, all of the sudden, I saw a dolphin jump out of the water and into the sky. I could only say, "Oh, shit!" Again, it leapt out of the water and glistened in the setting sun. "Holy shit!" Over the phone, it must have sounded like I was being strangled or had seen some massive danger coming toward me. It had been one of the most enchanting moments of my life during one of the happiest years I've lived.
I thought about that warm, beautiful night made all the more meaningful for sharing it with the woman I loved. Even though it sounded to her like I was about to be murdered, my happiness had debilitated my ability to formulate sentences beyond gleeful cussing.
And now there's a tempest that blasts sand across my face. How different life has become since then. So dark and tumultuous.
Somehow, despite the storm, I fell asleep on the fold-out chair. A phone call woke me up. Work. The store's security system was triggered. As I talked--yelled--multiple walls of mist blew off the water and tore away my voice. The wind was relentless. It crumbled my hearing. I could only yell to the security representative that I'd take care of it, and then hope that he heard me before hanging up.
This is crazy, right?
No, in fact, this was not crazy. This was entirely appropriate. The perfect metaphorical environment I could never imagine but only live within.
I had to find shelter or I would be pulled into undertow. I would fall asleep despite the apocalyptic storms and wake up adrift in the black nothingness that faces me. My thoughts were pulled by an invisible force toward oblivion. I pushed myself up from the jaws of the chair and shuffled across the dunes.
I laid on a chair and watched the lightning storm that I'd been chasing in my car for five hours. In my peripheral vision, the neighboring buildings only gave dim light (a preventative measure to not confuse sea turtles in search of nesting grounds). The buildings were like the last outposts of human civilization deep in space. Before me, everything was black. There was no delineation between the sea and the sky. Only staring could reveal the shapes and shifting patterns of aether into an "above" and "below." The sky churned and condensed until it erupted into explosions of light, and the darkness curled upon itself to make whitecaps. Here was the making of a dark universe, a view past the assumptions of humankind and a glimpse at the destructive power of nature.
Only two years ago, I laid on this same beach chair during a sunset. I had been talking on the phone with my partner when, all of the sudden, I saw a dolphin jump out of the water and into the sky. I could only say, "Oh, shit!" Again, it leapt out of the water and glistened in the setting sun. "Holy shit!" Over the phone, it must have sounded like I was being strangled or had seen some massive danger coming toward me. It had been one of the most enchanting moments of my life during one of the happiest years I've lived.
I thought about that warm, beautiful night made all the more meaningful for sharing it with the woman I loved. Even though it sounded to her like I was about to be murdered, my happiness had debilitated my ability to formulate sentences beyond gleeful cussing.
And now there's a tempest that blasts sand across my face. How different life has become since then. So dark and tumultuous.
Somehow, despite the storm, I fell asleep on the fold-out chair. A phone call woke me up. Work. The store's security system was triggered. As I talked--yelled--multiple walls of mist blew off the water and tore away my voice. The wind was relentless. It crumbled my hearing. I could only yell to the security representative that I'd take care of it, and then hope that he heard me before hanging up.
This is crazy, right?
No, in fact, this was not crazy. This was entirely appropriate. The perfect metaphorical environment I could never imagine but only live within.
I had to find shelter or I would be pulled into undertow. I would fall asleep despite the apocalyptic storms and wake up adrift in the black nothingness that faces me. My thoughts were pulled by an invisible force toward oblivion. I pushed myself up from the jaws of the chair and shuffled across the dunes.