Summer's End

We choose to put ourselves at the liberty of forces we do not understand. There is always more - each time I surface I submit myself completely once again. I can come up gasping for air or completely serene, at the whims of a fluid motion I will never explain. And I do it again and again. Because it is hot, because I am tired, because where else am I to rest a worn out body but the sea?

And there is no reason to think about it. Because I woke up today, because my limbs begged for movement, because where else am I supposed to go?

Walking from a rented house, someone else’s home marked by family photos I do not recognize, and the sun is aggressive. Sunglasses protect my eyes, chapstick my lips, sandals my feet from hot pavement. Coins in my bag crash into each other, sharing stories of origin since they are to reside there indefinitely, at the whim of some force that they do not understand. 

I remove my sandals once I reach the sand, a will to accept its burn as I carry my shoes in my hands because this is where we accept pain before pleasure.

Spreading out a towel, staking my claim on an anonymous patch of sand. Remove a t-shirt from a college radio station, remove a three-year old pair of shorts, apply sunscreen to the rest of me. Suited up, armored from the UV rays, and lay down to absorb as much heat as possible, as the human body can bear, as this one girl can bear.

It is impossible to ignore all the other lives playing out before me. Families with newborns, baby’s first beach trip, the tiny head tucked under an excessively wide bucket hat and an aggressive amount of sunscreen spread across the small, smiling face. The mother and the grandmother are talking softly; we see repetition everywhere. A father helping his daughter carry up a bucket of water, working on the pool under her umbrella so she could swim without going all the way to the ocean. And the father knows the sand soaks it all up, but there is something noble in trying then learning then accepting.

Teenagers on a day trip have a speaker set up in the middle of four of them, a playlist surely titled some celebration of this summer. I smile at the songs I know and grimace at the ones I don’t understand; I grow distant as we all do each year. And across the sand there is talk of dinner plans, ex lovers and ex friends, family members we just don’t understand why they have been doing all this, politics, new movies, and who we miss that we don’t get to see this summer. Basking in the sun, basking in all the small markers of lives bigger than me. It is getting unbearably hot but still I smile.

Peeling myself away from my towel, motivated by a need for release. Calm, steady steps to the where the water meets the sand and a slow, cautious, approach as the waves creep up and spread around my feet, receding with futile attempts to pull me under. The lifeguard blows his whistle to call in the kids who are too ambitious for their own good and the mother looks at another woman on the shore, rolls her eyes, and gestured towards the disappointed swimmers; better to learn limits some ways than others. But on the shore, I am still in control, though each step gets closer to giving up this control.

The decision to take a plunge is almost always accompanied by a shock. The water is perfectly cold against heated skin and all I can do while submerged is sit with where I am; no breath, eyes closed, to simply be. Resurfacing to the sounds of kids splashing and couples laughing and a parent saying you’re being dramatic, it really isn’t all that cold. Going back under I reach out a bit, shaping my hand as a claw and scooping up the sand before letting it go, barely opaque particles making their great return to the bottom of the sea; let rest what rests.

And after some time I walk myself from the water back to my towel. I lay on my back and put a hat over my face, shielding the eyes and leaving the rest of myself be. And I am no closer to the center of the universe than I was a few minutes ago, but the sun kisses my skin and warmth permeates in a way that makes you forget all about being cold. And with the sound of life spinning around me, I can smile without consciousness about what I am doing because I simply am.