If you could be anywhere?
I'd need to travel some in time as well as distance. I'd be on the beach in front of my childhood home. I'd have to travel because that beach no longer looks like it did on one of my favorite days. You'll have to edit this image above--just a little.
It's December, late, late in the day. A storm is coming in off swirling, black and blue clouds. I'm walking on a wooden jetty that smells like a tarred telephone pole. Balancing--toppling a little to the east, a little to the west--with the unrelenting, freshening breeze. My hair is stinging my face, the salt and the sea are a mist around my head and my hands. I'm warm in that faded, hand-me-down pink zip-up sweatshirt I wore until my wrists stuck out of it by about three inches.
That was one of the first days I can remember thinking--this is my place in life--my place on earth. It still is, but only when I go back in memory. Luxuriant memory.
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