A Joyful Little Beach Moment, Because Wonders Never Cease

Project 365, Day 226/365

Last weekend, as Charles and I sat and ate breakfast on Saturday morning, I declared: “I would like to go to the beach.” “Okay, we’ll go,” he said back to me. It doesn’t take much arm-twisting to get Charles to want to head to the water. We hadn’t been in quite a bit of time—maybe about a month or so—and for two people who would go once, sometimes twice, a week, it felt like too long.

We avoided going after a sewage spill in a nearby plant that affected the stretch we frequent. Me, ever cautious, waited not only until the proper source told me it was safe to go, but also plenty of people I know had also gone and said it all seemed back to normal. Neither of us ever so much as touch the water, so it really wasn’t too big of a concern, but no need to risk anything, even if just an unpleasant experience.

Saturday and Sunday went by in a blur of errands, cleaning, groceries. “We’ll go for sunset,” one of us said, I’m honestly not sure if it was me or Charles. We much prefer to avoid any sort of crowds, so daytime beach-going is not usually something we enjoy. People? Eh, no thanks. We’ll take the early evening slew of surfers and a wide empty stretch of sand.

“We should plan to leave around 5:30 so we have plenty of time there.” I know I said that one. I’m the time planner. I calculate everything. If the sun set at 8 and we wanted to be there for at least two hours, we’d have to get there by 6. The drive on a Sunday evening is usually around the 30-minute mark, so I’d start hollering to get ready to go around 5, 5:15. If I left it up to Charles, he’d have no idea what time the sun actually set, and would show up there at 7:55, and likely say something like “we should have gotten here sooner to have more time.” ::eye roll::

Right around 4, our close friends popped by with a surprise pie, and as we hadn’t spent much time with them recently, we chatted for a while, not paying much attention to the time as it tends to happen. We caught up on the latest happenings, latest shows watched, funny anecdotes we’ve missed. We split two varieties of pie—pecan and peach—a process that in my head went far more smoothly than it actually did. Cutting a mushy, gushy pie in half and transferring it as a whole piece to another pie tin sounds much easier in theory, but after some maneuvering and plenty of strange grunts on my behalf, we did it. Only one slice of pecan was sacrificed in the process.

By the time we said our goodbyes, it was close to 7. “Should we still go?” I asked Charles. I already knew he was going to say yes. He doesn’t let things like time stop him from doing most things. “Yeah, why wouldn’t we?” he said, not to anyone’s surprise. So went we did. I knew we wouldn’t have much time before we lost light, but I figured 30 minutes on the sand, breathing in the sea air, listening to the waves, was better than 30 minutes sitting on the sofa listening to Netflix starting up. Charles went through his normal pre-beach ritual—collecting all his camera equipment—while I went through mine: finding a sweater, getting water and snacks. There was some snarking on my behalf to an unsuspecting Charles about how long it was taking him, and why would he bother with the camera being that it would be dark soon after arriving. I may have nagged “hurry up!!” numerous times while he may have uttered a truthful “you see, you don’t support me”…not the first time he’s had to say that to me.

But after getting our things together, and me shouting a hurried and impatient “I’ll be outside by the car” to Charles from the front of the apartment as he rustled around for last-minute things, we were on our way.

Now, we have been going to the same beach for all the three years we’ve lived here. We park in the same place, sit on the same spot of sand, bring the same blanket. It’s ritual. But something new happened this time.

“OMG, look over there! It’s dolphins!” Charles said, with a childlike wonder that I never take for granted in his voice. Nature always impresses Charles, no matter how expected. I jerked my head up, did the obligatory “where? WHERE!??!” as I scanned the water, and then spotted it: a small pod of four or five dolphins dashing through the waves. The surfers in the water all stopped, sitting on their boards, to watch. People at the shore slowly started to take notice; Charles and I smiled at each other every time we saw someone realize, pointing in the direction of the dolphins.

Growing up in Florida, spotting dolphins at the beach, specifically the west coast of Florida, was not uncommon, but every time it happened, it was amazing. It’s like spotting a bird flying in the sky and thinking “omg, it’s a miracle! Birds flying…in the sky!” Birds fly in the sky…that’s what they do, just like dolphins swim in the ocean, but it never ceases to astonish.

I sat, my eyes fixated on the pod, moving horizontally across the shore along the wave until it broke. Then they’d disappear until the next wave came, and they’d emerge again to surf along. They were playing, clearly. Snap, snap, snap I heard coming from Charles, camera in hand as always, trying to capture the moment: sun setting, surfers waiting, dolphins frolicking. What a wonder.

The whole thing lasted maybe 8 minutes…10 if I’m being generous. And just like they arrived, they were gone. Maybe they had moved along further away from us, hunting for waves, or maybe they went back into deep water, on to other adventures. Who’s to say.

“Here I was thinking we were so late to the beach, that we were going to miss it all, but really, we got here right on time. To see this,” I muttered to Charles. “Ummhmmm,” he said back, still likely hunting through his lens for the sign of a dorsal fin.

It was a moment to be savored, a blip that has stayed with me all week. How unknowingly sad it would have been to not have been a part of those dolphins’ Sunday evening. If I had had my way, we wouldn’t have gone, chalking it up to being “too late.” If Charles were anyone else, letting the allure of the cozy indoors win him over, it would have been missed. Of course, we wouldn’t have known we had missed anything, but now I do, and my soul had a little treat it wouldn’t have had otherwise. Plus, the following lesson that I need to hear and I need to hear it often: Even when life feels late, it’s right on time. It really is.

See you tomorrow, friends.