a birth of a new day

My boys have spent the last week at a friends house down the “Shore”, pool, beach and water park. So I went to pick them up and instead of fighting traffic Saturday morning, I zoomed into the darkness and slept on the beach in Spring Lake. The “Irish Rivera”, my old home for three years.
I will not exaggerate to say that sleeping on the beach behind the turned over lifeguard chair was a “spiritual experience” last night. Looking up into the crystal clear blackness was a million stars. The waves were high and rough. Off into the north east from many miles away, I could see the incrediable flashing and rumbling of a far away thunderstorm. I woke up from many dreams in my snuggy warm sleepingbag. A little alone. A little scared, but what I really couldn’t believe how FREEZING cold it was. The whole mechanics of HOW a good sleeping bag really works just amazed me. My own body heat was keeping me from being a big chicken and running back to the car.
I SURVIVED the icy night. I watched the sun come up in slow motion. A new day, like a new baby, coming out of the water, oblong at first, almost distorted, was just so amazing to me how the sky changed so many red hues.
Then the “morning people” came. Dog walkers, surfers, ocean khakis, and fishermen. I talked with some that came over to me, still nestled in my “camp”.
People do care. I felt that way when I read some of the comments when I came home from the beach. I miss everyone. I am so proud of Bonnie. I wanna hug Paul. Kiss Grant and Greg. Dance for Bernadette and Barb and go boating on a strange lake somewhere in south Florida.