Tuesday

Whenever I need to think, or write, I come to the ocean. Funny how a place can make you feel trapped and free at the same time. Water has always calmed me. But sometimes being surrounded by it can feel smothering. I remember the last time I renewed my passport the man working asked me where I was travelling, and I said - so quickly - nowhere, without an active passport I feel suffocated. 


There is pink in the distant clouds. I bet it’s a beautiful sight on the other side of them. The weather here leaves a lot to be desired. A big reason why I hate it here; hate living here. Hate is a strong word, I know. But sometimes it fits. But what’s the alternative? I read somewhere if you can’t decide, the answer is no. I can’t decide where to move, so I guess I won’t. 


There are other people here at the beach, watching a hidden sunset. I wonder what they’re thinking about, talking about, listening to. We’re here together, but all within our own little worlds. Safe and nestled in our cars. Safe and nested in our own thoughts. The waves crash, the sun sets. It all begins again tomorrow. We all begin again tomorrow.


And that’s the beauty of life. We can begin again. We have the power to change, to shift, to move. And while it can be beautiful, can it not also be scary, overwhelming, numbing. When you can’t decide, the answer is no. That can leave a person very stuck. Stuck, in a rut, bored. Some of my least favourite human experiences. Wanting can turn a nice life sideways. 


Venus has appeared now. People are slowly and surely driving off. I soon will too. But not yet. For now I watch the waves. Watch the day turn to night. And dream about a new tomorrow.