Saturday, May 5, 2007

The Tracks of My Beach


[The following was written with my eyes closed from the time I wrote the start of the third sentence. I didn't open my eyes until the end. "Free association" I'll call it, I guess. Ah, the ocean. I loved it then.]

I can close my eyes and easily recall my time on the beaches of Hawaii. That is unusual for me as I don't readily remember my childhood or my past, for that matter. But if I close my eyes -- like I'm doing right now -- I can feel myself lying on the sand at the Tracks beach. I can hear the waves crashing. I can taste the salt on my lips. I can hear the noises of the others, those of my family and those not of my family. There is laughter. There is shouting.


There is my mother and father sitting amicably. A rare occasion, that. They are always scanning the ocean for the heads of children. That sounds macabre, but what they were constantly doing was counting heads. One, two, three, four, five. Always alert, always watchhing, always counting. Probably more so after the day I nearly drowned.

But that's not the memory I'm recalling rigtht now, as I close my eyes -- and BTW thank my mom for forcing me to take typing in seventh grade. I've not opened my eyes. I'm lying on the sand. The noises are fading away. I am imagining being on another island, one just visible past the horizon. I am there. Alone. There are no others. I am peacefully lying there. I hear nothing. My imagination has carried me somewhere else. The sun is beating hard on me. There is a breeze. There is always a breeze. I am alone on a desert island. And I am at peace. I love the solitude. No siblings. No parents. No military police. No schools. No teachers. No one. Just me. And I imagine how I will live on this island. And I never imagine how I will escape from the island. Because I've escaped just to be on the island.

The spell is always broken, of course. By a mother offering a sandwich or her famous punch. Or by a brother dripping ocean water on me. Isn't that funny? Or by the heat of the sun forcing me to consciousness. I open my eyes. Escape? Not today.


[Travel the ocean with others' Sunday Scribblings.]

9 comments:

~Kathryn~ said...

i was there with you ...
thank you for sharing

gautami tripathy said...

Nostalgic posts always interest me.

Crafty Green Poet said...

I love imagining being on a beach by myself and I love the feeling of having my eyes shut on a real beach and everything else dissolves

Unfolding Rose said...

i loved the idea of your mother and father counting the heads - I'm sure that's what all parents do, but I've never seen it written before! That's a wonderful place you have there in your imagination...thanks for sharing it in your wonderful 'free association' piece

Rob Kistner said...

That was an engaging journey through your mind -- thanks for taking us.

Chelle said...

As one of four children, I often longed for solitude. This took me back to my own daydreaming.

kintheatl said...

Wow...I love your ocean memories. They are so peaceful.

Onion said...

ah, but what a beautiful place to escape to!

Regina Clare Jane said...

Sounds like bliss...

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