…a very easy place to disappear…

Restless. Weary. Fitful. Tense.

Full of thought and concern.

Ideas. A mind swollen and engorged.

A knotted brow and shoulders, arms that carry heavy contemplation. Release is needed.

To move. A walk… yes, a walk is what I need. A goodly evening stroll will do me good… and so I depart.

Creeping quietly in the late hour, shushing my footsteps upon the creaking beams of the hardwood floor, I throw on a loose shirt and sandals. I close-and-lock the door behind me… and trot out across the lawn, giddy and nervous in the blustery Night.

The evening is warm, save for the wild winds that blow in off the water. Somewhere out over the Bay, an angry Squall sends waves crashing to the shore… though I hear a low faint rumble of distant thunder, I do not see any lightning over the water as I arrive at the beach.

Walking along the shore, I yearn to be out in the water.

Propped along a nearby dock, I spy a broad Bodyboard. Pearled white, trimmed in a design evocative of Hokusai`s most famous work, I find it to be perfectly suited for my designs.

“…the Sea is a very easy place to disappear,

to drift away, to fall asleep, or make your peace…”

Mad. Impulse. Near-crazed.

Leaving my clothes in a careful pile, far above the high-water mark, I race out into the raging surf… diving out over the crashing waves, I paddle into the first climbing swell that comes towards me.

Turning around until I am facing the beach, I grip the front of the board and kick furiously.

As my momentum matches that of the wave, feeling the wave carrying me, I pull myself up onto the board in a kneeling-squatting position… and prepare to carve across the face of the breaker.

When I feel the lip foaming around my bare abdomen, I pull a hard left and am immediately tumbled into the trough… buried by the undertow.

I leap up out of the water and laugh in mad salty choking-cough seawater bellows. I swim towards the shore to gather up the board and try again. Again, and again.

My thoughts race back to forgotten hours of my childhood… warm sunny mornings in Summer-colored Key West and Miami. Low tides. Walking out into the Sea forever, with the water barely reaching my young knees, and giggling at the minnows that tickled my toes. Surfing the froth into a setting Sun eve, the womb-like tumult of being dragged in the wash. The heat of a long day`s Sun on bare shoulders.

The wind rages on, and the storm encroaches closer. At the first sight of a blue thread of lightning, I hasten out of the water.

Returning the board to its place, I dress and return homeward through my secret trail in the nearby woods.

Arriving home, I sleep… and dream beautiful dreams.

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