I remember growing up on the beaches of Long Island and time stopped as I idly played in the sun – the wet sand and glossy pebbles, hot between my toes. The shore lapping.
Time was still. Joy was mine.
The smell of sultry, humid heat peppered with salty seaweed baking on the beach. The warmth and taste of the briny water.
Seagulls squawking. Horseshoe crabs aground and dying on the shore. Fiddler crabs popping out of holes.
Wildlife scurrying amongst the brush on the dunes by the worn redwood fences. The grasses and reeds rustling. A summer breeze wafting through a corridor of beach below a cliff.
I wake up. I’m startled.
Time is just a blip – yet a continuum. But, only as long as it is held in your mind.