The smell of the sea

 

 

Saturday, October 05, 2013

 

I wake early to rising heat Ė this technically not Indian summer since that usually arrives after the first dip into frost.

The news feed talks about snow storms in the mid-west, making mockery of the sweat dripping from my brow.

I donít remember what I dreamed, only that I did, and that they felt good as if I strolled through some landscape that was not a jungle of heat or a frigid sheet of ice.

This is Saturday, which means I do my usual chores, bank near the Basics on JFK, Coach House for reading of the weekend papers, Salvation Army (I must remember to load the car with donations as part of my reducing possessions project), and finally Columbia Park where I still have to decide if the Dollar Store on my agenda or the Staples or Shoppers World before ShopRite for food.

The ritual is so engrained after so many years I could walk through it in my dreams, although at times, after the Coach House, I sometimes skip Salvation Army and stroll the streets of Summit Avenue in Union City, where life stirs a little later than I do, and people pop out of cars to wait for the shop keepers to open.

This part of the city is like a little town, and I have come to recognize many of its inhabitants, even though we do not likely speak the same language or know each otherís names.

I like the walk on rainy days or even overcast days, such as today, wandering up as far as the new high school and back when I havenít done my usual Saturday morning yoga.

Iíll probably take that walk today, although after a brief thunderstorm last night or the night before (my memory is going) we do not expect rain until the aftermath of some one-time tropical storm in the south works its way into our part of the world.

By this time next week, Iíll be waking up in Cape May Ė another ritual like my spring time and August visits to Woodstock, filled with renewal and thankfulness that most people reserve for New Years.

I have a lot to be thankful for this year, though during this walk through these streets I will likely ponder this, making some informal list that Iíll totally forget by the time I feel the sea breeze on my face and smell the ocean again.

God, how I miss the smell of the sea!

 

 

 


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