On welcome distractions
I was putting the rubbish out, when I got distracted. A warm breeze was coming off the sea. The moon, nearly full was surrounded by wispy clouds, scattering radiant light.
I headed to the beach. There is an enchanting smell when you reach the sands. The early summer wind full of salt and ocean. A waxing gibbous moon means the tide is two days off full springs, but the water was retreating, quickly. A man with a metal detector was skimming the strandline, headphones clamped to his ears. The water’s edge was a fair distance out, and the soft sand turning more solid with every stride.
I stood with the gentle waves gurgling at my feet and walked along the beach with the broken moonlight catching each breaker. It felt serene. I recited Masefield into the wind, just to check I can still recall the full three verses. I can. A black dog came to circle at my feet. His owner in the distance calling to him every once in a while.
The beach is big enough for the four of us.
I walked along the beach, with the wind in my face; and back, with the wind tousling my hair into such a mess I could hardly see where I was going. The breeze picked up, and I was starting to feel the chill. I was hardly dressed for a nighttime stroll.
As I walked back up the beach, the worm casts stood out in the moonlight, hinting at life beneath the desolate surface. As my footsteps sank deeper on the drier sand, the wind grew stronger, kicking up the topmost grains and sending them shooting along the ground. In the mix of moonlight and streetlights from the promenade it held the illusion of early morning mist rising from water.
In the distance I saw a shadow of a man with a metal detector skimming the strandline.
As the sand grew yet softer underfoot, the smells of the fish and chip shop began to register. The clattering sounds of slot machines woke me. The flashing lights of the arcade games brought me back to earth.
But for half an hour it was a very welcome distraction that was good for my soul.