PROLOGUE
This morning I awoke early...to a coughing fit then a call
of Mother Nature. Guess this is it for sleep today. It is 10 minutes to 7. Padding out to the kitchen before the sleep
was completely out of my eyes, a casual glance toward the river stopped me in
my tracks. “Lochness” in its quiet repose,
the river had not a ripple on the surface and a light misting of fog still
lingered near the lowest part of the shoreline.
The temperature is already reading twenty-six degrees. Today, I will walk the beach…take my camera
(just in case); a bottle of water; my cell phone (for the time); my sunscreen;
my car keys and my writer’s notebook.
I’m travelling light today.
 |
| A lone seagull shares my walk |
The beach is almost deserted except for a few early birds
like me. The waves aren’t high, but all
the same, their rhythmic beat on the hard packed sand is steady and
unstoppable. A seagull is insulted by my
intrusion as he waddles away casting a glance over his shoulder now and
again. He gives up. I’m obviously not leaving.
I scan the sand around my feet as I walk. Forever searching. Today I find several small heart shaped
rocks. They seem to be everywhere
(typically they are rare and hard to find).
I dust them off and slide them into the back pocket of my cargo shorts.
Today is a good day!
The year was 1969. I
had just turned 15. The summer of
’69. A great year. I got my first ‘real’ job working in a
tourist home at Brackley beach. The
hours were long and time off was rare.
The heat was smothering in the one-room cabin accommodations. I shared the room with my workmate, Estelle.
It was a sweltering hot Sunday. I had one week of work left before returning
to school. It had rained hard earlier
that day with the customary thunder and lightning after a hot humid stretch. We were soaked with sweat. Estelle suggested for the Sunday afternoon
‘break’ we go for a swim. It sounded heavenly. It was…almost.
We were the only two people on the popular beach normally
frequented by tourists. The locals were
more familiar with the riptides after such a storm. The sun came out and the heat bugs had picked
up their incessant screeching. Happily
we arrived at the beach and wasted no time tearing off our clothes, having
already donned our swimsuits underneath.
Oblivious to the fact the lifeguard station was unattended; we raced to
the water’s edge. The breakers were high and noisy crashing onto the
beach. But it felt so good to be
plummeted by the icy cold water on the north shore.
Estelle was a strong and able swimmer. I felt safe with her. She suggested swimming ‘out’ to a sandbar
where the breakers were the highest. Not
to be accused of being afraid, I agreed.
But I was afraid. To get to the
sandbar there was a huge expanse of water to cross.
I was now a bit unsure of my swimming ability. I had passed some levels of swimming lessons
but never tested them in something like this.
I went for it. I could see
Estelle ahead of me with arms parting the waves in a strong breaststroke. I was right behind her.
At some point I realized I wasn’t keeping up. A strong ebb and flow undercurrent (riptide) was having
its way with my progression. I couldn’t
go forward…and I couldn’t retreat. I was
like a cork, still above water, but tossing around. Even at 100 pounds, I felt weightless.
The sandbar breakers were not far away now and when they crested,
they were over my head. The water was
also over my head and with each wave I swallowed sea water. I could no longer see Estelle. When another wave broke, I could see her –
the strong swimmer floundering not far away with a panic look on her face.
I was getting tired.
Treading water is one thing, but the churning of the riptide was sucking
the life out of my limbs. More water
entered my nose, mouth and stomach. I
knew it was nothing short of a miracle if I made it out.
I let go. I stopped
fighting the current. I had my first
migraine headache. Everything sounded
far away and bright spots clouded my vision.
Estelle was shouting, but I couldn't hear her, the pounding was so loud in my head. I couldn’t breathe – water was everywhere.
Exit point #2 - I Chose to Stay
Like a miracle or the hand of God, I felt my foot graze the
ocean floor. The riptide had tossed me
to shore. Staggering and lightheaded I
collapsed on the sand. Estelle was right
behind me. I wanted to vomit but
couldn’t – the indignity of it! We sat
for a long time, catching our breaths and retching. We spoke not a word…the moment was too big.
All the ‘what ifs’ were cascading through my mind. I shuddered to think. We returned to work, neither of us admitting
to what had just transpired. Better to
put it on the shelf…to think about later…and reflect.
I met the love of my life that last week in the summer of
‘69– at the drive-in theatre. I had
plans - plans for a lifetime with him.
He introduced me to a different side of the sea. We are avid boaters. I have an immense respect for the sea to this
day. Never have I forgotten how quick it
can claim a life, unrelenting in its strength, at the same time irresistible in
its beauty.
Living in the Moment
The beach today is near empty…just like that summer day decades
ago. But the sea today is quieter and as
each gentle wave laps at my feet, I imagine it is whispering an apology.
Until next time. Lady Lorraine.
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