This past evening, when I
finally made it to Ocean
Beach, the sun had
already set over the horizon and people were already leaving in their cars. I remained to watch the waves curl over and
break in a now blue, brown, orange, and purple ocean, with northern gales
blowing the ashes of old fires made near the dunes.
I hid my keys in some sand and
soot and black logs and took a run.
Nothing of a boardwalk, though there once was, no ferris wheel or
concessions, only one motel far down the local highway near the park. No real wave formations either, just thick
swells that rolled in like cows. I
wasn’t going in anyway, I needed a full suit anyhow, and I was enthused for
some swimming sometime later. I passed
by jellyfish, couples, and a couple girls who sifted down to the water’s edge. One tugged on a dog incredibly reluctant to
approach the ocean.
I then finished my
run, a run to brush off my state of unemployment, occupy the time for fitness,
nostalgia, beauty, and let me recollect on the past and what could be the
present. I am single, alone, and
nowhere, a great premise but a difficult road, and beaches back home were
warmer and more free of fires and fish.
I missed that sunset, and the next day it rained.
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