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Remarkable
I sit atop
my favorite dune at Carmel Beach.
This is the most glorious time of the year to be in Carmel, with
the remainder
of “Indian Summer” yet to come!
The bay shimmers like melted turquoise.
Sea otters bob up and down on the gentle waves.
The rolling greens above the cliffs at Pebble Beach resemble
emerald velvet.
Tiny mussels cover the rocks cascading down from the cliffs
below the golf course. Intent on their game, the golfers seem
unaware of the beauty at their feet.
Point Lobos juts out from Carmel Bay and points across the
Pacific towards China.
Pieces of driftwood, washed up from who-knows-where, dot the
pristine beach.
Pelicans glide by providing a prehistoric profile against the
intensely blue sky.
The sand at my feet is as fine as sugar. Even the sea gulls are
content and do not pester me for scraps from my lunch.
Honeymooners stroll along the shore and stop to snap each
other’s photos against the magnificent background. Unencumbered
with children, and so in love that they hold hands, step by
step, with each new footprint in the sand. They have picked the
ideal season to celebrate their love in Carmel.
Dogs run and play, unleashed with joy. They frolic
indiscriminately in small packs chasing frisbees, tennis balls,
waves and wary gulls. Dachshunds chase Great Danes.
Border Collies cavort with terriers. Without leashes, yards,
fences or property to protect, they are free to be themselves,
reverting to puppyhood, regardless of their age,
or pedigree.
I collect delicate samples of lacy seaweed to dry, press, and
add to my collection.
Against the reflection of the pale sand, I am sunburned, as I
have been so many Septembers here since childhood, producing
more additions to my collection of freckles!
I have walked the length of the beach today. Remarkable! It is
remarkable that I am alive and walking at all!. No, I can no
longer jog along the surf, nor can I climb the steeper dunes,
but I can walk along the water’s edge, and walk it very well
indeed!
Truly remarkable!
What did the oncologist tell me in March of ’98 when I chokingly
asked him whether
I would live another year, perhaps another eighteen months?
“Remarkable” he answered. “It would be remarkable if you lived
that long at all.”
As sunset approaches, the locals come out for their evening
stroll, savoring the blending of the brilliant colors as the sun
melts into the Pacific.
Even when I am inland and away from the shore, I am compelled to
turn towards the west at sunset, like a flower straining towards
the last rays from the beautiful sun, until the moon and stars
beckon me to sleep.
An excerpt from Where the Red Tailed Hawk Flies
Copyright 2000 by Gabriella Graham/Red Tailed Hawk Publishing |
