Arrived at the beach about two and assessed the situation. Our designated timeshare was listed as a "container cabana." I don't know about the cabana part, but it certainly was a container; nearly a dumpster. Oh well; it took so long to get here, we were all exhausted, so took a swim, ate some burgers and then slept for fourteen hours.
We awoke at dawn to the sound of a whistling air blast. Stumbling out of our box house, we froze in our tracks in disbelief. There, hovering fifteen feet above the beach, was what I can only describe as a flying pod. It extended four long legs and settled onto the sand. A door opened and a man, a woman, and a little girl stepped out on to the deck. The couple shaded their eyes and looked toward the beach. The little girl looked over at us standing there slackjawed. She spoke.
"Our beach house is better than yours."
***Management Note: What a whimsical take on this photo. Thanks Al E. Yus!***
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
~Untitled 2 by Al E. Yus~
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
5 comments:
Friday, August 10th
Arrived at the beach about two and assessed the situation. Our designated timeshare was listed as a "container cabana." I don't know about the cabana part, but it certainly was a container; nearly a dumpster. Oh well; it took so long to get here, we were all exhausted, so took a swim, ate some burgers and then slept for fourteen hours.
We awoke at dawn to the sound of a whistling air blast. Stumbling out of our box house, we froze in our tracks in disbelief. There, hovering fifteen feet above the beach, was what I can only describe as a flying pod. It extended four long legs and settled onto the sand. A door opened and a man, a woman, and a little girl stepped out on to the deck. The couple shaded their eyes and looked toward the beach. The little girl looked over at us standing there slackjawed. She spoke.
"Our beach house is better than yours."
Love it. Love it.
He walks to the edge of the ocean, feet sinking into saturated sand, and takes a look back at her. Or rather, looks back at where she will be in a few short moments, his salty deity of the beachwood.
She of the silver touched blonde mane, of the sunlit textured skin, is to be worshipped, and he answers this need with a sacrifice. He walks. If he walks into the water will she bring him back out again, undrowned?
He walks, wet to the waist, such faith in a boy of 24. An unskilled, unswimming, drownable boy. He is almost to where the water gets deep, past where he's been before.
Behind him on the beach she's laughing in an orange florescent suit. Guardian of life, his goddess. He will walk into the darkling passion of the water to be saved by her earthy, fiery light.
He walks, feels the undertow, the lack of air around his face. He expects she is running toward him with the buoy, shining like she does. So he smiles with seaweed licking at his ears, the drowning boy. She's coming!
It's early, 6PM, but she, the lifeguard, just turns the faded sign on the station door. Swim at Your Own Risk, Lifeguard Off Duty. She walks with her head hung low, walks back home, and drinks herself, over a husband strayed, into the floor.
And Mom and Dad said I'd never make it in life. Well folks, who's breathing smog and who's breathing the ocean breeze now?
We arrived at the beach one family and after our time there, nothing would ever be the same.
Me, him, our kids. As usual - anger,frustration, annoyance. I wanted to sleep in, he was intent on early. "Gotta get a good spot."
Morning- coffee spilling, rushing around the kitchen. Groggy, with sleepiness that felt like a blanket of wet wool over my head. And a headache. A very bad headache.
The kids were so excited though and while I wanted to be happy for them - no, I wanted to be happy with them, I was not.
Carl, as usual, preternaturally perky and positive. Why did I marry him? There was a time when that appealed to me. A long time ago, a very long time ago.
Anyway, in the car-cooler, kids, chairs, blankets, attitudes. Oh wait, I am the one with the attitude problem.Off we go.
Arriving we have our choice of spots. Kendall walks down to the water's edge. At 4, she is curious and adventuresome. Colm, ever the big brother at 7 goes running after her.
Carl and I harangue and argue over this and that. I want the chair here, put the umbrella there.
We look up. The children are gone.
Post a Comment