I am spending time at the Atlantic Coast this week. The first three nights I was here with three other women. We’ve been getting together each year for more than 10 years now to spend a weekend at the beach. It’s a time of sharing, eating, drinking, laughing, crying, and relaxing. Now they’ve left and my husband and three of my five kids are here to spend a few days.
Here on the beach at Melbourne, there are moments of grace everywhere you look. The turquoise, teal, aquamarine, smoky grey colorscape of the surf and sky inspire visions of oil paintings come to life.
Turtle tracks appear in the night with new nests of eggs against the dunes.
The feminine moon and Venus awake for the sunrise show each morning, glittering jewels in the midnight blue sky. The clouds against the horizon – an ethereal purple mountain majesty awaits the glory of the golden sun.
Coffee and salt air.
Swarms of dragonflies in a frenetic sky-dance dip and spin to gobble up mosquitoes.
Finger mullet leaping to escape an unseen predator. Dolphins performing carefree water ballet.
A starfish on the sand.
A nap in the shade of the canopy with the constant beat of the waves on the shore.
That constant beat is inescapable; it becomes a thread in the fabric of life. After three days you notice it less, but move by it more.
There’s a sense that sitting inside writing is inappropriate at a time like this. Grace moments are calling to me.