At the beach

Last night I slept outside. I'm visiting a friend whose beach house has a deck that opens from the second story, with tree branches crowding it from all sides. It was like sleeping in a grown-up treehouse. I planned to stay awake to gaze at the stars and think deep thoughts, but the train ride had left me exhausted. Who knew that sitting still could be so tiring? I fell asleep right away.

I woke up chilled through to my bones, shivering under a cotton blanket soaked with dew. I stretched and lay still for a moment, just to enjoy the coldness. We’ve had a spell of hot, humid weather at home, so feeling cold was a rare treat. It was still dark, but the birds in the trees were making such a racket that I knew it must be dawn. I could hear the ocean, making surf sounds that lured me away from the warm house.

I made my way to the beach, down the road of vacation homes, following familiar landmarks I remembered from my visit last summer. At one grassy corner, I glanced up to see life-sized statues of deer. “That’s odd,” I thought, “I don’t remember those huge statures.” I took another step and the statues whirled and leapt away, white tails swishing.

I kicked off my sandals as soon as I reached the sand. To my right, bank swallows swirled and darted into their little holes high in a bluff. To my left, the pink glow in the distance held the promise of another scorching hot summer day. A lone man far down the beach stood in the surf with a fishing pole. He smiled a hello as I went past, ankles in the ocean water, walking into the rising sun.

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