Sunrise and Sunset

The heat of the day is too much for me here at the beach. I get up early, before sunrise, and run along the beach at low tide while I watch the sun slowly come up over the horizon. By the end of my run, my legs are sore, sweat is sliding down my face, and I collapse in the sand and stare at water. The morning people are of three types: athletic types who are running, boarding, or fishing; the folks allowing their dogs to roam free - sometimes these people walk slowly and comb the beach for shells and sometimes these people chase after their dogs in the surf; and the gawkers - people with video cameras who get really irked when you run on the packed sand right in front of their recording.

I sit until I can't take it anymore - the heat, the sweat, the sand slowly creeping into every crevice of my body. Then I get up and slowly amble back home, savoring the quiet, the warm cool, and the peaceful thoughts circling around my head.

During the day, I occasionally head to the pool, but more often we leave to find air conditioning - a trip to the aquarium, a boat tour to find dolphins, or a trip downtown to wander through the cute little shops attempting to find postcards to send to my grandmother and some cheesy trinket to bring home to my husband. The early start time usually means I slow down by 4 or 5, occasionally taking a nap or just reading for half an hour to recharge.

But, night, night is where it is at for me. Low tide again, watching the sun go down, slowly, slowly, slowly. Then out come the flashlights. I watch the waves roll in and out while the sea foam roils and the mist fogs my glasses. There are few foolhardy folks out at this point, most of us laughing and giggling, as if we are doing something wrong.

I had no idea how much I needed this time. I really felt like I was fine at home, like Minneapolis had wrapped me in its summertime hug. But right now, as I sit here and type this, listening to my cousins bicker, my aunt referee, and the ocean in the distance, I realize that Minneapolis has healed me in its own way, but this week is the week I needed to invigorate my joy and faith in nature.