Sand. Sea. Silence.

Serge had unconsciously or intentionally neglected to tell us that his condo was in a retirement community. Inside, we unpacked suitcases and our minds. Outside, elderly couples walked their dogs, watered their flowers and waved hello to passersby.

They had a leisurely way of embracing their days, and Chris and I follow their lead.

 It became my secret mission to be present in our lives and our days. I wanted to soak up every ounce of life. We woke early, tiptoed out of the condo, and walked across the street to the beach. We waited in reverence and searched the east for the morning light to climb over the horizon, beam through the white clouds, and pour warmth onto our faces. The elixir of purified salt and oxygen from the Gulf of Mexico filled our lungs with fresh, uncontaminated air.

I often wondered if people knew if all this sand, sea, and silence was happening.  

Each morning as we walked towards the water, Chris’ morning mantra was simple: “Another Day in Paradise.” He said this with such ease that I would look at his face to see if he was breathing in the grace of the sea, or reminding himself not to stress about the uncertainty of our situation.

At the water’s edge a stillness and an undeniable presence surrounded me. I inhaled the crisp morning air, and exhaled my fears and worries into the vastness of the Gulf. As though Chris had heard my silent prayer, he would say, ‘Amen’. We walked back to the condo and our morning ritual continued.

Chris started the coffee, I opened the blinds and sat by the window with my journal and a few books to read.   

In early spring, beachcombers returned in droplets. In front of me, a man sucks yabbies out of the sand with a homemade pump. He is planning for the future; he is catching bait for dinner. A couple with worn faces from a hard life of alcohol or drugs walks by and wishes me a pleasant good morning. They appear to have fought a hard battle to recover. Redemption, it seems, has made them cheerful. 

A group of five older adults — four women and one lucky guy — walked toward me. The gentleman asked me to take a photograph of them. In just a few minutes, stories were shared. I learned they were lifelong friends. They had witnessed the birth of each other’s children, danced at each other’s wedding and held each other up through divorces, diagnosis, diseases, and the death of loved ones.

They had been through enough to be completely exhausted, yet here they were, the vibrant five asking me to take their photograph. 

“Take my good side,” the feisty one in the group revels. Just as mouths opened to reveal dentures and eyes widened to show content, I snapped the picture. They said thank you and walked off into the world they had created for themselves. The feisty one, dressed in bright yellow, lagged behind the group. She was picking up seashells and saying something of sorts to the sandpipers who scurried by on their tiny legs, catching their meal. 

A cyclone of seagulls gathered in the distance searching the sand for sustenance and it dawned on me then, we had all come from our various mini worlds to be replenished by the water. I wondered then: if these people could live through so many hardships in one lifetime, maybe, I too could learn to live with endometriosis.

I could reclaim my body — dare I say, even sparkle.  

♥

Kadine