An Ocean of Mercy
In its place, from this room, the gentle sound of waves slap quietly against the shore and immediately grab my attention. I look up and out the window, well outside of myself and see nothing but ocean. The light is soft and even on this semi fall day. The ocean is calm and glimmers with reflected light. Peace and serenity surround me.
It is that time of year when summer begs to hang on, but autumn begins to display its change. Leaves begin their transformation ever so slightly and summer days waffle back and forth from warm to cool.
A gigantic pine tree burrows its old and weathered roots into the grassy area twenty yards from the ocean. It is far from a perfect shape, much like myself, but a shape that has been and continues to be be formed and twisted by the wind, and defined by the elements of its surroundings. In spite of its weathered life it remains strong, healthy and deeply rooted. Don't be mistaken into thinking this tree hasn't seen its share of hurricanes, tornadoes or ice storms. The bare patches and missing pieces on this tree, say otherwise. Storms take their toll, yet the tree stands proudly, boldly and even slopes towards the ocean, as if to challenge even more oncoming rages from Mother Nature. The tree can take it.
A woman walks along the shoreline, head down, hands clasped behind her back. Several paces behind a sea gull follows her trail and almost mimics the woman's walk. The woman seems to be looking for something, answers, ideas, or maybe just plain peace. The sea gull's head pokes down every now and then foraging for food.
I sit in my room gazing at the three living species in front of me. I too join them in their quest and challenges.
I came here to try and finish three specific writing pieces. I'm not a nature writer by any stretch of the imagination.
None of that seems to matter now. It's lost in the clutter of my mind that was silenced when I got here. All that's here right now is peace, solitude, and silence, save for the sounds of the ocean. No radio, no tv. no people.
The world has mercifully stopped for a bit.
But I am not alone. I brought someone with me who I have not seen in 60 years.
A long lost first cousin called me 10 years ago to tell me he had a photo of my dad when he was in the army. I've never heard from him since- until Monday.
He emailed me the photo of my dad, and it is leaning against the old lamp I am using at this writing desk.
The sepia toned photo shows a young handsome man. I look so much like him, it's scary, but exciting.
Finally a face, my father's face, to put to a name, Dad. A man I have never met but have never stopped romanticizing or fantasizing over.
I have him now.
This room, this time, this view,and his face are all that matters.