At almost every curve in the boardwalk, where staircase meets sand, is a bench. For watching sunsets, surfers, sunrise. For rest, contemplation, memory making.
Dad used to awake before 6:00 a.m and was standing at the gym door right as it opened. I would rise around 7:00, drag the kayak out to the beach and take it to the waves. Our paths would cross sometimes around 8:00 a.m. when Dad, finished at the gym, came to sit always, on the same beach bench.
Paddling across the bay, I spotted him. He would wait for me sometimes, and we would sit together and talk.
When he sat on that bench, he would say, "I always think of my mom and dad."
The satisfaction of having just worked out his aging body brought him peace; resting with the ocean vista before him brought contemplation.
I was lucky to share in those moments.
So it is, still today, when I paddle across the bay, I look to that bench. I imagine for just a moment, my father waiting--I will ride a wave in, will slide into the shore, will shuffle through the thick sand and sit next to my father.
Dad used to awake before 6:00 a.m and was standing at the gym door right as it opened. I would rise around 7:00, drag the kayak out to the beach and take it to the waves. Our paths would cross sometimes around 8:00 a.m. when Dad, finished at the gym, came to sit always, on the same beach bench.
Paddling across the bay, I spotted him. He would wait for me sometimes, and we would sit together and talk.
When he sat on that bench, he would say, "I always think of my mom and dad."
The satisfaction of having just worked out his aging body brought him peace; resting with the ocean vista before him brought contemplation.
I was lucky to share in those moments.
So it is, still today, when I paddle across the bay, I look to that bench. I imagine for just a moment, my father waiting--I will ride a wave in, will slide into the shore, will shuffle through the thick sand and sit next to my father.
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