Sand, Smoke, Debris, and Skin on the Fourth

Cranberry Red Lingering Firework Burst
Two foreground shadows look on at a burst of red fireworks lingering in the sky.

I like walking in the street. In the middle and unabashed. Left foot stepping on the striped dividing line; sometimes yellow other times white. Then the right foot. An action to show that I’m wild or going against the grain or not paying attention. A bit of defiance. To publicly show that I think differently. That I am different. To have people follow my lead. They respect me and are curious and while they don’t say anything within them they carry an appreciation of my showing them that they too can walk in the street and be one of the first so others can see them and have others follow their lead until it is those who do not walk in the street that are the few. See this, see me, look at my flexed calves and my funny Birkenstocks. This street; I walk on it. The entire length of it is mine. And I will return one year from today to claim this street again. Remember me.

On the Fourth of July I do walk on the street and over a bridge. Fireworks are lit at 9:05PM. Arriving with an hour until then means parking about a mile away and walking to the beach. East bound traffic is closed.

Fireworks bright white light illuminates the audience.
The audience and smoke illuminated by a blast of bright white light.

Some groups of people, it becomes obvious, have been at the beach all day. The crowd thickened the closer to the water so we claim our spot behind the volleyball court while a few clearly non-volleyball players have fun with an grapefruit like under-inflated ball.

More people arrive and claim their viewing places around us including directly in front. The first pop and burst of gun powder like clockwork. The night turned into a masquerade. Shadows moving and exposed by the light – red, green, white, blue, purple. The oil on the skin reflected. At first I noticed the long full hair. Then I noticed the wonderful breasts with the assistance of the helpful light. Plush. As she crossed from the right out in front of me another crackle and burst touched the thin layer of oil on both rear checks; a full reveal. Suddenly the shadow was no more a shadow but blended into the night. I titled my neck to return my sights to the pier and then to the sky.

The fireworks were 3-D. Either the fireworks were so powerful or we were so close to them that each bang and pop and burst rained little paper pieces of the fireworks. The debris landed on in my hair, shirt, and legs.

The mile walk back was more crowded than the same walk an hour before. Reached the car at 10:00pm exactly and had driven well away from the crowd easily without traffic by 10:11pm. Away from the sand, smoke, debris, and skin.

Sunset in the East

Setting in the west the Sun leaves us in the shadows. 

Sun so bright the ocean water and sand are warm. 

Where does seaweed come from and how long has it drifted in the ocean before washing ashore? And then where does it go? 

This isn’t a typical beach day.  It is a Father’s Day. These days make me sad and force me to avoid people more than the usual. The attention is uncomfortable even when shared with an entire country. 
And so I drift to the shore like seaweed to be among strangers arriving and those leaving having spent there entire day in sand. 


Untiring breeze touches me and calms my thoughts. The sensation of traveling this wind evokes. The high and low static of the waves. 

I remember digging troughs in the sand in wait for water to enter and complete my sand castle. The princess inside held captive by an moxie crew of assorted shells. 

And the last sun rays  streaks across the evening sky. The sun retires and the wind continues.