There was a softening at the beach this morning. The warm sun, the forgiving sand, and the wind so light that a ponytail can be messy. I watch the waves roll in for a long time thinking about the molecules rolling around one another, thinking of all the space between them. I remember the end of, “The Last Unicorn,” as the white rolling sea foam slowly becomes a toppling mass of lost unicorns. I think of how the bull pushed them out there and the motley crew that walks to the edge of the earth in order to recover the magical population. Who are these unicorns? Why hoard them? Why hide them? Isn’t the world so much better with them in it?
The waves are like melted butter pouring over fresh air-popped popcorn. I think of all the folks returned to earth on this day and the cycle of living and dying. I squish the fine, wet sand between my toes and feel thousands of years and souls rise to mingle with hair, nails, skin-as if to dance with all that came before me. Playing with the ocean is one of my favorite pass times. I run to her and let her chase me back out. I jump in and run out. This goes on for some time. I play with her like I play with children and give no shits about being seen.
My daughter is burying herself in the sand nearby. Today, in this softening, she is comfortable. Yesterday the wind was loud, the sand was cold, and the water was a little yellow-brown at the edges. She covered her ears and curled into her sweatshirt and cried at the sheer muchness of it all. Her friend and I held her hands and pulled her past the waterline as she screamed. When her feet hit the water she smiled. And then she covered her ears again. I realize that I did not prepare her for all of the feelings that the ocean would conjure today as all I can think about when being reunited with the ocean is the feeling of free. In the softness of today’s beach, I see her touching, playing, laughing. I remind myself that she needs a break. She needs a break from feeling and a break from me. I see where I can soften too.
I remember the great loss of today and think of all the mothers and daughters who are crying while I dance with the elements and reflect on my place in this world. I think about eating and fucking and letting go of rules and expectations. I wonder if my daughter will have the chance to grow out of her fears. I wonder if we could just let the unicorns go, let them fill the space in between, would we see the magic more often. Then there will be less space for fear. Crowding out the existential dread like dark leafy greens for a sugar addict.
I turn to my friend, the ocean, one last time before we have to go. I thank her for her beauty and her perspective. I revel in her power and her reach. I try to memorize the feeling of belonging, of play, and reverence. I try to memorize the sets, the horizon, and the endlessness. I want to imprint all of this clarity and set it as the wall paper in my mind. I want to hear this softness when I close my eyes. I want this peace to ride with the blood through my body and be the resting of my face.
