Into the Mist

This morning I was sitting in my car waiting. What am I waiting for? I looked out across the dashboard to the outside world. After an acre of sand, waves emerged from the mist and crashed into the shore. Turning down Kanye, I threw a toothpick in my mouth, grabbed my camera and ventured out into the morning.

The air stung cold, but was tolerable. I put my hood up and strolled from the pavement to the boardwalk to the sand to the shore. What am I looking for? I strolled slowly on the hard sand watching the waves crash and the seagulls parting before me. Dew stuck to my beard, I inhaled the salty air deeply so it could penetrate my inner child. The child who had hoped to design space ships and play with giants.

I knelt on the sand and focused my digital. What will this image mean? Feelings, unlike photographs, change as quickly as the waves crash around me. Some of the water retreats, some soaks into the sand.

Finding ones self is like waiting for something to emerge from the mist. Maybe the answer lies in the dew on my beard and the salt in my nose, and not in the cloud beyond the waves.

All I know is that for the first time in a long time my feet aren't wet and the forecast is for sun. The trick is being patient enough not to jump into the mist.