Beach Route

The first thing I did this morning was go to the beach.Of course, in actuality, I woke up to a good morning kiss from my dog, Roger, made plans for lunch with my mom, got out of bed on the left side, and walked to the bathroom to brush my teeth. I put on my bathing suit and begrudgingly applied sunscreen, because I wouldn’t dare show up to lunch with a burn.   I searched through drawers to find my “missing” pair of sunglasses that are never really missing—just put where they belong by someone else in the house. I found them there a minute later, of course.   I then made coffee, curated my beach bag with my beach holy trinity—the sunscreen, the towel, and the holy book (a new Taylor Jenkins Reid novel)—grabbed a perfectly ripe peach, and headed to the car. Then I headed to the car again, because I forgot my chair.   I took the roof off the Jeep to be closer to the sun and the wind on my drive, and looked up “Summer” on Spotify so I could listen to “Summer Music Picked Just for You” to complete my journey. I passed street names I’ve subconsciously memorized, slow traffic lights I’ve sat at for what must be hours, accumulated over the years, and kept my eyes on high alert for people I might know—in case a wave was warranted.   After all this, I finally arrived at the beach—one failed back-in parking job included, though I’d like to forget it.   Being welcomed onto the beach by soft, forgiving sand, salty air running along my skin and through my hair, waves crashing up the shoreline to greet me—how could this not feel like the first thing I’ve done this morning?   There’s a reassurance and comfort packaged into a visit to the beach that makes everything else pale in comparison. A certain amnesia for the rest of my mundane morning settles in as I watch and hear the waves crash.   What a lucky thing it is to sit here, so consumed by the sounds of the present that what came before is silent.   The buzz of my neighbors’ conversation, passing laughter from two women on a walk, a steady rumble from the ocean’s movement and changing tides. There is noise all around me, and simultaneously, there is none at all.   So, naturally, the first thing I did this morning was go to the beach.