To the sea, part two.

What have I been doing since my time at Habit, came to end, you ask? I have nothing to say for myself. Walking. Walking in the torrent of spring weather (sunshine, hail, sleet, snow, rain, repeat). Eating tuna sandwiches. Removing mountains of fur from the floors only to have it reappear instantly. Making peanut butter cookies. Mucking around in the mud at the park. Working on the house here and there. Keeping busy. Sitting down to the computer less. Reading more. Thinking that I do not own nearly enough Dolly Parton records. Waiting for spring. Walking.

I promised to share some glimpses of our most recent trip to the coast. Quiet all but for a few horses, kite flyers, and sandy local birds. The air was warm from an uncharacteristic stretch of sun. It hung around for awhile. I'm beginning to wonder, with March in full swing, if that weekend wasn't something of a mirage. I am trying not to forget the details. The way time stopped. That I wore red sneakers. The deep, in your bones and heart and hair and toes kind of contentment. Watching our friend's baby girl, only an infant on our last visit, walk by herself on the beach. Salt smells. Wind smells. The blue glass ocean. 

But I will tell you this, the way this time was different: there is the sea. And there is the sea with a Bradley. And it is impossible to say just what I mean, especially when others have said it so much better. But there is something about the way a dog says, let's go, that defies all of humanity. Humans and their words. Ideas. Expostulation. Endless talking. Making sense. Forever making sense. The continuous string of thinking and reminiscence. Ridiculous. Even a pleasant stroll on the beach, remarking. So forget that. Forget it all. Even this post. Forget it, he says, with his entire body vibrating, wagging, smiling. Says the dog, who everyone claimed would never recover from his emotional scars. Let's go, he says. Forget the leash. Forget it and run. Run until you can't run anymore. Like lightning. Leave the sand in your wake. Be silly. Follow the horses. Run along the edge of a continent. Heal yourself already.

 

Okay, buddy. Let's go.

All love,

*Andrea

Comments

[shari]

what a post. "heal yourself already"...love that. thanks for always inspiring me. xo

[julia]

yes! that's really all i can say to this. yes.

[rebekka]

This is shallow, but I honestly don't think I could be MORE JEALOUS of your hair.

[Liz]

Beautiful post, really beautiful.

[ani]

i think you managed to express this beautifully as it brings tears to my eyes. :)

[debbie]

i like the idea of sitting at the computer less, and reading more. wish i could actually do that! :)

your dog makes me smile.

[Kat]

Yes. All of this..

[emily]

i've missed you this month - after spending so many days with you at habit in february. and i absolutely adore the photo of you and bradley on the beach. hi there.

[elizabeth]

this post made me smile. I feel the same about beach visits with my pup.

[Carolina]

you gotta get "coat of many colors". i have a special place in my heart for old dolly. new dolly is kind of weird and plasticky. her music morphed much like elton john. the old stuff is good. the new stuff is baaaaaaaaaaad. where you been bird? i missed ya!

[dianna]

I once took a walk on the beach without a dog. It broke my heart. A walk on the beach without a dog feels like an incomplete experience...

And ditto about the hair.

[stephanie]

this was beautiful.

[gracia]

Walking and moving mountains sounds like an awful lot to me... and very appealing. And... to be by the sea! Ah!

Beautiful photos to accompany your ever-enchanting wordy descriptions, g xo

[mich]

bradley could teach me a thing or two.

[Thea]

your pictures are beautfiul and so are your words

love your blog ^_^

<3 thea

[Lynne, Tea for Joy]

Love this post. Sounds like the beach is a very tranquil place for you - I'm jealous of your sacred space.