Ondine

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Ondine
She's got everything she needs, She's an artist, she don't look back. She's got everything she needs, She's an artist, she don't look back. She can take the dark out of the nighttime And paint the daytime black. --Bob Dylan

2004-07-24 8:53 AM
Scenes from the Beach

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Had a beautiful day with the kids at Malibu, yesterday. Jotting down some of the golden moments.

Angela and Joe in the ocean, diving into waves and floating over swells. Though they are a distance from me, I can see their smiles.

Mist lingers over the hills and past the swells, but the day is sunny and warm. It's so good to get away from the valley heat filled with smog and wild fire smoke.

Writing. Carpal tunnel makes writing longhand a challenge and I have trouble deciphering what I've written, but I still enjoy the process. It's pleasant to get away from the pc--the pen makes it visceral. I am keeping this notebook in my purse now, so I can write where ever I am. Gives me a sense of freedom.

There's a surfing class going on for a group of teenagers. Their mothers sit a few yards from me and cheer when ever a kid stands or rides a wave in. It looks like a lot of fun. Maybe if I get the 10000 words done for the new novel by mid August, I'll reward myself with surfing lessons.

Angela and Joe are getting pretty far out into the ocean. They can't hear me yelling at them to come back in so I have to swim out to them. The water is cold at first, but I plunge in and soon I am used to it. My muscles have grown with karate. I love how it feels to swim with strong arms. I hang out with the kids for a while then head back in to write some more. I get caught in a mess of seaweed but manage to get to the beach alive. :D Seaweed is my bane!

One of the surfing students heads over to the group of mothers and plops down, apparently exhausted. He curls into a fetal position on a towel. His mother rubs sun screen on him. They share the same face but his hair is all spiky wet brown and hers is a mass of silver and gray. She rubs his back with the lotion, her expression one of adoration for this boy. He accepts the love with comfortable indifference. He will go through life thinking he can do anything. He probably won't know why. But I am seeing the reason on his mother's face. Is there anything more wonderful than your child's skin?

My precious cargo come back to where I am writing. Angela's bloomed more freckles. Joe is looking happy but tired. It's time to pack up and head home. They both thank me for taking them to the beach. I thank them for being born.

We head home.

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