Literal, on the littoral
The goal is clear. Time for me to extend my comfort zone, beyond the walls of our home. Going out on the deck, with a cup of coffee, is a beginning. Going down to the shore and walking along the edge of the ocean is a step more. We have no mountains, so I’m safe from that twist.
Don’t get me wrong. I like walking on the beach. Done it before (when I was younger and easily impressed by the sound of my footsteps. Now, the paradigm has evolved. Consider walking in a blizzard. Now increase the temperature, change the world to beige, and add the white noise of the surf. There we are. I realize that if I lose contact with my guardian, the alternative is to sit down and wait for the boat. I mean, we are by the ocean. There has to be a boat, eventually.
This is the height of summer. It won’t be easier, a hundred days hence. Up to me to pick up the beat and pretend that I am independent, healthy and whatever else would go well on one of those posters that push you to a higher plane. I might add the GPS to my daypack, because when the water’s edge is part of the “look where we are, now”, I have to accept that going to the side (one side, at least) will require that I learn to walk on water. And God, I’m not there. In the other direction, there are dunes, maybe. I should add a water bottle to my manifest. And get in shape, because the guardian has big plans for my heart.
At what time will the boat come by, just in case? Do I need to reserve my eventual rescue? Are dogs allowed?
