The Walk

Upon the sand of the shore I walk for a mile before I notice the shadow at my side. It is smaller than I remember. The grains of sand pass through my toes and the waves lap at the shoreline. The water is neither warm, nor cold. It is the middle ground of in-between. In the water, seaweed catches my foot and I shake it off. My shadow notices and shakes her head. It has been many days since I've been here.

The waves crest and break over and over, tumbling bits of shells and rocks and detritus upon the beach. I look down often searching for the elusive sea glass Amy Clampit wrote about so well. On the counter at home sits a jar waiting to be filled. It is unlikely that I will find any, but still I hunt. The solitude sneaks over me in the absence of sound. It's barely six am and I am alone, just me and my shadow.

What will we talk about today? I wonder. In the distance a gull calls out as it rises over the water and turns to flee towards the rising sun. We have talked about many things over our time together. Sometimes our talk is trivial; the weather, a book. Other times it is of difficult things and determination and more often than not there are questions that go unanswered.

It is not I who asks the first question today. My shadow wants to have a meaningful discussion which I find in discord with the silence. I am enjoying the heat of the rising sun upon my face, and I do not wish to speak. But my shadow never listens. My shadow creates its own space and as I turn my head, I hear the demands.

When? Why? Where?

I don't know the answers and I don't want to seek them today. Today I just want to walk upon the soft sand and ignore the shadow at my side. The one that is demanding a meeting I don't want to attend. I kick up the sand and stoop to toss a rock into the waves. My shadow is silent, waiting. Will I answer?

I think not for today. For today, I only wish to be.

Sent via BlackBerry from T-Mobile

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