A super duper shot out to Jen over at The-B-Life. Imagine my suprise yesterday when I click over there, as I do every day, to see what's going on and see a big shot out to Belle!!! I loved it! THANK YOU!
Last Saturday
I woke up this morning thinking about Spring. It was bright and sunshine-y outside and laying on top of the covers it was relatively warm in the bedroom. I got excited, made great plans for a fabulous dress and just my favorite denim jacket to be worn after I got my toes did around the corner.
If Spring were here, then soon it would be summer and summer means weekend trips to the beach with or without friends, standing in the water with a Starbucks cup while listening to Stevie Wonder on my iPod, singing out loud and off key, and two-stepping alone in the waves. I had way too much fun last summer, WAY TOO MUCH but out of all the parties and all the park outings and all the cafes and bars and gatherings, that was the moment I remember the most.
I called out of work in mid-September because after a string of low 70s days, the temperature hit an unexpected 85 on a Wed. Summer had returned for just a day and I took advantage of it, thinking will I remember what I do today at the office or remember my day at the beach?
There was practically no one on "my side" of the sand. The kids were back in school. It was just me and a few other worker bees who'd had the same fuck-work thought and were e-mailing and conducting conference calls on beach towels. Oh, and a housewife who'd stood up the garage repairman to bask on the sun one last time. (She was nearby. I overheard the whole phone conversation about her having a family emergency and being unable to wait for him all afternoon.)
After my water dance, I plopped on my towel and stared at the ocean while scarfing down homemade guac and chips from my favorite beachside restaurant. I turned off my phone, lest the working world interrupt me with one of its predicaments, then lay to bask for a sunshine nap while humming along to Donnie Hathaway. ("I believe in music, I believe in lu-uvvvve.")I woke up around 2, realized it was still hot, and went in the water to dance some more, this time to Al Green ("what a wondrous thing love isss...") I was no where near love, not even close to like with anyone, but I had that amazing feeling that you get after a great first date or later, a first kiss. It's like being in love with the possibilities.
I lay around somemore, staring at the waves, just thinking about life, wondering what's next. Next job, next writing assignment, next vacation, next kiss, next great anything. When the temperature dipped around five o'clock, I covered up and packed up my stuff from the trek back to BK. At the boardwalk, I paused, took a last look at the waves and water, the sand, listened to the sound of Long Beach, a place I wouldn't enjoy for another nine months, and smiled. I'd definitely remember this day more than anything that would've happened at the office. (As a true testament to my thought in that moment, I can't rememeber the titles or plots of any of the books I worked in the two months following.)
Saturday morning I put on sweats and flip flops to go to the nail shop. It was fucking freezing. 40 tops. (Note to Stringer Bell, people remember 40 degree days.) On the corner, the guy who sells magnets in the shape of fruit had his radio blasting. The deejay forecasted a 67 degree high. No fucking way. (It hit 47, maybe I heard wrong.)
Seems like Spring, and then summer, will never arrive. Sigh.