First, it is with your ears. The incessant thrumming of waves tugging and tossing themselves to and from the shore. Second, it is with your skin. The salt as it calcifies the creases in your lips. Finally, you see it. The blue-black ocean through swirling flakes of snow, the beach grass illuminated by orbs of light from the boardwalk, the sand whipped into miniature peaks and valleys, snow accumulating on the ridges and hollows.
The Oregon Coast in wintertime.
Cam says, “I’ve got to go see it,” and takes off on a parallel running through the sand, Beth and Ron at my side as we catch up in person for the first time in six months.
When I settle into my room to unpack, an impromptu gathering occurs. Three friends sitting beside the fireplace, another with his feet up on the coffeetable. The last four days have been oddly exhausting and I find myself beginning the residency with low spirits. But here, now, with writer friends in my luxurious Oceanside room, the ocean just a few yards away, the balcony holding its view—part of my unhinges and I feel like I’m getting closer to stable ground.
Tonight, I must sleep soundly, refill my well, and try to return to the world of the not-so-anxious with a bright smile and keen mind tomorrow morning.
Today’s pic: Snow at Seaside!