95 - At the beach.
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The other day I went on a drive with my dad. We
went up north of the inlet out to Chesterfield
Sound. I hadn't been out there since I was just a
kid. There is a beach, and it is so super flat
that you can walk a long long ways when the tide
is out. Popular spot for family vacations back in
the day. Now, there's barely anybody here, and the
cottages higher up on the cliffs look all boarded
up. But here and there on the packed sands, I can
see things left behind from the past summer.
Kites, broken tents, kids' pails, stuff like that.
I guess some few people still vacation here, like
nothing's ever changed. And I sort of marvel at
that resilience, even if a bit sadly.
My dad and I walk far out, even wading into the
cold water when we finally reach its edge. Way out
like that, you can see the offshore windmills
further out in the distance. They're all still by
now, of course. They look so huge and unlikely to
me. Like, how could anyone ever have worked so
well together, to raise things like these? Yet
here they are. But you know, there's a certain
elegance to them even now, all rusted and seized
up though they are. They remind me of trillium
flowers, fading late into their season.
