morning lights looking east on Monterey Bay from the southern lip.
a water beacon, close hauled, then far over, Moss Landing, Marina, Seaside.
is any reason necessary?
patience may bring all that’s needed. sea lions above and below. pelicans in imaginary flight. otters that swim with the seaweed beds, eating and sleeping on their backs. afloat. then cold Pacific water finds the shore the rocks the sand, my toes. I may ask for more at times, but that’s the more I don’t need, being me.
in her French flavored English, genuine, she calls you dear and yes, my sweet when she delivers the food to your table and booth. maybe she even sits down with you for a bit. that second floor restaurant right above the beach. wouldn’t old friends act that way? maybe she is, exactly that.
another face now.
things change you know. rowboats moored close ashore, there to reach other boats, deeper away. a few with motors, most not. one small blue sailboat with yellow sails. those colors always make my memory smile. twin gondola boats with swan heads bow and stern. one long oar to move, fish and crabs and starfish below the glass bottom window pane.
no more, none.
at low tide some gathering of rocks just off the beach. high enough for dry feet. but watch the seaweed above the waterline. slippery. so bend with care. abundant small crabs in their shells, sea anemones eager to touch, eager to hold childish fingers, eager to taste. the rocks remain, but things change. including me, bigger, more changed, more easy to fall.
yet I’m also a rock in that ocean place.
please fully enlarge image for best view