I know I am in paradise. I feel like I am and if I need proof, I don't need to depart this world anytime soon; I just reflect on the last hour and a bit, but the time seems vague, contrasting to the surety of my walk along ---the beach and all that I experienced.
It was late afternoon, that time between lunch and the approaching evening on a Sunday. The seasons were rubbing up against one another, unsure about who was going to lead the dance, the music provided by gentle waves kissing the pebble-strewn beach.
My eyes were working overtime, seeking out colourful stones, all to be polished, vibrated and tumbled back in the garage. They would join my growing collection, to be attached to pendants or simply given away.
I was not alone. Campervans were parked, spilling out their inhabitants, some of whom, joined me, in conversation, laughs and a few, collecting their baubles from the beach, be it driftwood, stones or---memories.
They shared their stories, about life back in the city, or their journeys in their travelling homes whilst Perdy the Jack Russell made friends, endearing herself by jumping up, looking deeply into their eyes, as if she was taking a measure of who they were and keeping tabs for future reference, as only dogs can.
By this time, my pockets were bulging, threatening to drag my pants to the ground, lightened only for moments as I showed the 'beach people,' my collection. I was fed marshmallows by a generous lady, unknowingly eating about six before I remembered that, back at home I was soon to be cooking fresh fish delivered by a neighbour earlier in the day.
I said my goodbyes and headed back over the bridge, the sun warming my back, reminding me that Winter would come calling and days like today, but a beautiful memory.
As I entered the kitchen, I was met by the enticing smell of home baking. Maybe cooking that fish would be a few more hours, as it would be sacrilegious, not to partake of the little treasures displayed upon the cooling trays. Yes---paradise! Perdy had a look on her face that told me she too would share in the efforts of her 'other human parent.'
It was late afternoon, that time between lunch and the approaching evening on a Sunday. The seasons were rubbing up against one another, unsure about who was going to lead the dance, the music provided by gentle waves kissing the pebble-strewn beach.
My eyes were working overtime, seeking out colourful stones, all to be polished, vibrated and tumbled back in the garage. They would join my growing collection, to be attached to pendants or simply given away.
I was not alone. Campervans were parked, spilling out their inhabitants, some of whom, joined me, in conversation, laughs and a few, collecting their baubles from the beach, be it driftwood, stones or---memories.
They shared their stories, about life back in the city, or their journeys in their travelling homes whilst Perdy the Jack Russell made friends, endearing herself by jumping up, looking deeply into their eyes, as if she was taking a measure of who they were and keeping tabs for future reference, as only dogs can.
By this time, my pockets were bulging, threatening to drag my pants to the ground, lightened only for moments as I showed the 'beach people,' my collection. I was fed marshmallows by a generous lady, unknowingly eating about six before I remembered that, back at home I was soon to be cooking fresh fish delivered by a neighbour earlier in the day.
I said my goodbyes and headed back over the bridge, the sun warming my back, reminding me that Winter would come calling and days like today, but a beautiful memory.
As I entered the kitchen, I was met by the enticing smell of home baking. Maybe cooking that fish would be a few more hours, as it would be sacrilegious, not to partake of the little treasures displayed upon the cooling trays. Yes---paradise! Perdy had a look on her face that told me she too would share in the efforts of her 'other human parent.'
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