I was thankful to get away for a while, and it is rare I go
to these places. It was 11:50 p.m. on December 31st 2012, the end of
an uneventful year—for me at least. The air was very cool, but not quite cold
on the beach. My feet were not-so-firmly planted in the soft sand and my mind
was elsewhere. I pulled my hood up to block the wind so that I could light my
last cigarillo of the year, a vanilla Black clove, a sweet taste on my lips
when it finally came to life—a rare treat. I left the hood up because the
fireworks were bright. When they explode with chalk white radiance they hurt my
eyes, even more sensitive when they’re forced to adjust like that. I stood away
from the others, those I knew, but more because of those I didn’t. I needed a
moment alone before it hit midnight and the obligatory celebrations would begin,
my surroundings were quite serene.
The sky was
a tapestry of monochromatic gray, though I’m unsure how many shades that is. It
looked to have been painted by one of the old masters. The moon remained
obfuscated behind the clouds, accenting them with broad strokes. Only an S-like
sliver of pure white moonlight came through, not enough to lighten the beach or
show off the true white brilliance of the sand. The waves crept closer, each
one stretching watery tendrils out farther and farther, beckoning. Small waves
lead to medium than large as my eyes followed them back to try and spy their
point of origin. Curious as to the journey they must have had to make it to
this shore. There were no reflections in the water though, under the cover of the
moon, thus any revelations or epiphanies could not be found tonight.
The ocean
is a roaring cacophony from Mother Nature’s stereo surround sound. Booming roars
come from the large waves off in the distance, small more comforting noise from
the smaller waves up close, and the constant hum of moving water from all
around. It sings. Some believe you can find many answers by gazing into the
moving waters, to scry into the future. I doubt it’s trying to tell me
anything, but I want answers. That’s what I’m here for. The sound is important,
it focuses me. I have so much and nothing at the same time, all on my
mind—weighing. The truth was, I had less personal problems, no drama, and a
little more opportunity than I had possessed in a long while, so much was
missing though. So I listen to the ocean. I feel my Adidas sink deeper into the
loose sand. I want to know how to find all that I seek.
It is not
what you think. The traditional fret is over a love interest, or something
lost. I have nothing but room to gain. Don’t get me wrong, women are great, but
that path makes its own way from what I have seen. I have other things to
consider, different ventures that need attending to. Old habits do die hard
though, too hard. The leather feels good against my hand as I fish around for
my phone in the inside pocket. I hit the button only to be greeted up close and
personal with that which I had been trying to avoid, a bright light, but this
one was from the LCD screen that opened up to my text messaging. I typed
slowly, checking behind my work. I want to keep up appearances, showing a level
of carefulness. I construct something simple, a message that seems short but says
a lot poetically. I think. A mistake? Perhaps. The older I get the more I like
to gamble it seems. That also may not be a good idea.
It’s sent
though. Fireworks explode in the distances, left and right. Greens, blues, and
reds starburst into accented patterns signifying my actions perhaps. I watch
the reflected colors in the waves. Inhaling the essence of the ocean, I dream
of things to come. The cigarillo is done. I shove the butt in the pocket of my
half-coat as a drunk friend yells my full name, wanting me come. I sigh. So
much rests on ceremony, something I see no point in. At least it is with
friends though. Annoying drunks aside, the New Year was swinging in, and the
gauntlet had been thrown for change. Tick tock.
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