The Beach
Pitch black except for the lights from the streets that shed a faint glow across the sand, we ventured closer to it, the high tide. Its waters rushing up and over the shore covering it mysteriously with no real design only a force driving it to where it would wash up. Solid and damp, yet wet and soft our running shoes struck lightly upon the earth in pursuit of the run, the sunrise, the motion, the desire to be one with nature in that moment. The all powerful scent, the inhalation of salt water there is nothing so pungent and yet refreshing to my soul. Breathing it and listening to the tide roll nearer to my steps being chased by the lengthening tide, the cool air from the water’s spray blowing ever so slightly over me and a grin like no other, contentment that has been hidden for five years shone through my eyes and the peace of oneness with nature, the run, my place in time all intertwined as one in my morning sunrise run on the beaches of Coronado Island.
