Last night while my Beloved was getting ready for bed, I sat on the couch and thought about our most recent vacation, a wonderful stay down in Rhode Island. Random thoughts from those days coursed through my mind as I sat and ruminated and took long pulls from my 24oz can of questionable beer. (Natty Daddy, in case you were wondering. I told you it was questionable.) I certainly don’t recommend this cervesa, but being a pauper it’s the best I can do to scrounge up a $1.09 for the can. And it’s the equivalent of two beers! After the initial swallow and subsequent shudder, it’s not that bad. Really. (OK, it is.)
I recalled one day in particular, when our son’s friend came down to stay with us. We stayed at the beach from 8-3pm, and the boys had a grand time, free from the clutches of an iPod and such. After our return home we ate an early supper and returned to the beach, to welcome the sunset. One can never tire of that ancient orb as it slowly disappears below the horizon, like nature’s own free fireworks display.
Darkness descended and we returned, and played Monopoly for a few hours. It was just me and the boys, as Julie was just too tired. I checked on her during the game, and she was fast asleep with a book in her lap. Even in sleep she appeared radiant. She is such a love.
At 10pm, the boys retired to their rooms, but I lingered behind, and kicked back with a nice cold Blue Moon Ale, a beer that is actually a pleasure to drink. All was quiet and peaceful, save for the constant hum of the dryer. And the night sounds outside in the pitch black.
There is quite a contrast to the sounds you here around this house in Saunderstown, a small cottage tucked into a quiet neighborhood near the Narrow River. At night, one hears through the screened window all kinds of strange clicks and screeches, twigs snapping and leaves rustling, invisible things scuttling through the brush, and the cacophony of katydids. It was quite eerie. During the day, though, when we have our first cup of coffee, brilliant birdsong punctuates the still crisp morning air and, later on, the incessant and deafening thrum of cicadas.
I drank my beer and listened, and marveled at the creatures that inhabit the nocturne. Tomorrow, we’d do it all over again, although Julie and I would be up at 5am once again, even though sleep teasingly beckoned. Oh, how splendid that would be! And don’t people usually do that on vacation, sleep a little bit late? But no, we’ll be up, make our joe, don our sneakers and be out the door, to drive to Narragansett Beach and run along its length, always scanning the skies for sunrise.
So that was just one of many fond memories I have of that healing respite near the sea, something to relish as we start yet another work day tomorrow. Well, for Julie. I will sit here and contemplate my next post and get back to my writing. Perhaps more such pleasant thoughts of the sea will fuel my muse.
Copyright, Paul Grignon, 2012, All Rights Reserved.