Spring seemed to have gone on hold until yesterday afternoon, and this morning, early May appeared in all its finest. The children of chlorophyll can be seen almost everywhere; baby leaves are in abundance. Green is quickly becoming the color of the world again.
Along with the persistent New England cool spring rains, I’ve been battling heartburn lately. It may have been the pizza with sausage, pepperoni, and red pepper from ten days ago, although days of Starbucks Dark Roasts precipitated the event I’m sure. Nevertheless, while the air has been wet, my stomach has been on fire.
So I decided to eat my bagel and sip a milder New England coffee on the waterfront this morning in Newburyport. Temps were in the mid-fifties, the sky was completely clear and sunny, and a mild breeze was blowing out of the west. I could have stayed there for hours.
The tide was going out. The sound of the current and the reflection of the morning sun in the water was hypnotizing. I soon forgot past rainy days and persistent heartburn and felt only the sun on my face. It doesn’t take long to revert to the elemental and call the sun god.
In such moments the physical slips away. A pink light fills your consciousness with soothing clarity and nothing floats with you except the flotsam and jetsam of memory. Maybe you see your joyful daughter when she was just eleven. Or hear your father’s cheerful voice or feel your mother’s soothing hand on your childlike brow. Or taste your lover’s fragrant kisses.
It may be sentimental, but I’m sure these are the things we carry with us when we pass on to whatever waits for us on the other shore. But I was still on the Newburyport waterfront and soon awoke from my reverie and prepared to leave for work. There’s nothing to do in such instances but sigh. And be thankful that my heartburn seemed to have settled to some minor smoldering. Like this life of mine.
Along with the persistent New England cool spring rains, I’ve been battling heartburn lately. It may have been the pizza with sausage, pepperoni, and red pepper from ten days ago, although days of Starbucks Dark Roasts precipitated the event I’m sure. Nevertheless, while the air has been wet, my stomach has been on fire.
So I decided to eat my bagel and sip a milder New England coffee on the waterfront this morning in Newburyport. Temps were in the mid-fifties, the sky was completely clear and sunny, and a mild breeze was blowing out of the west. I could have stayed there for hours.
The tide was going out. The sound of the current and the reflection of the morning sun in the water was hypnotizing. I soon forgot past rainy days and persistent heartburn and felt only the sun on my face. It doesn’t take long to revert to the elemental and call the sun god.
In such moments the physical slips away. A pink light fills your consciousness with soothing clarity and nothing floats with you except the flotsam and jetsam of memory. Maybe you see your joyful daughter when she was just eleven. Or hear your father’s cheerful voice or feel your mother’s soothing hand on your childlike brow. Or taste your lover’s fragrant kisses.
It may be sentimental, but I’m sure these are the things we carry with us when we pass on to whatever waits for us on the other shore. But I was still on the Newburyport waterfront and soon awoke from my reverie and prepared to leave for work. There’s nothing to do in such instances but sigh. And be thankful that my heartburn seemed to have settled to some minor smoldering. Like this life of mine.
2 comments:
That's a beautiful post, Greg. I miss New England even more now:)
Thanks Johnny. And I'm sure New England misses you. It'll keep a light on...
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