The view was calling me out of bed on to the beach. Perhaps I should've taken the side of the bed closest to the window so that I didn't have M's hump of covers obscuring the view in any way. M stirred. "I'm going for a walk on the beach. Do you want to come?" I enticed. We stuffed our sleep shirts into our shorts, zippered our jackets and I put a cap on to tame my bed-head.
The warm glow of the sun had not yet risen over the hill of houses. The beach was quiet and the sand cold under our feet. I took a deep breath. The sound of the waves breaking on the beach and out at sea stills my soul. I zippered my jacket all the way closed. It was briskly cold - cold enough to invigorate our walk to the natural Eiffel Tower of Cannon Beach.
Haystack Rock rises out of the ocean as chief among a cluster of rocks that seem to have lost their way at the time of creation. As a small group of youngsters who, not paying attention, are separated from the adults, these rocks stand just out at sea separated from the jagged mountains that reach down to meet the beach.
The sun's glow starts to reflect off the white caps of the waves. We look forward to its warmth on our backs. We greet early morning runners and joggers as we step along the hard sand. M takes photos of the rock and of my fun beach poses. I'm practising being less self-conscious. We stand, looking out at sea, and our daddy-long leg shadows stretch out in front of us.
The closer we get to Haystack Rock the more we hear the communal cries of the seagulls that call the rock home. They fly around and nest on the rock as bees around a hive, calling all the while.
"Do you want to jog?" M asks. "Is your lower back sore too?" I reply. Yes. We start our jog. I feel it even more in my back. "Wait, I'll have to stretch first." We limber up with some stretches. Our mid-life bodies aren't what they used to be. Stretching with my elbows on my bent knees, I surprise myself with a view of Haystack Rock from upside down between my legs. I probably haven't done this since I was a child and then it was for fun. I smile to myself. Is this a subtle sign that we are indeed headed toward a second childhood in later life?
We jog back, rinse our feet and enjoy our morning ritual of a hot cup of tea.
The warm glow of the sun had not yet risen over the hill of houses. The beach was quiet and the sand cold under our feet. I took a deep breath. The sound of the waves breaking on the beach and out at sea stills my soul. I zippered my jacket all the way closed. It was briskly cold - cold enough to invigorate our walk to the natural Eiffel Tower of Cannon Beach.
Haystack Rock rises out of the ocean as chief among a cluster of rocks that seem to have lost their way at the time of creation. As a small group of youngsters who, not paying attention, are separated from the adults, these rocks stand just out at sea separated from the jagged mountains that reach down to meet the beach.
The sun's glow starts to reflect off the white caps of the waves. We look forward to its warmth on our backs. We greet early morning runners and joggers as we step along the hard sand. M takes photos of the rock and of my fun beach poses. I'm practising being less self-conscious. We stand, looking out at sea, and our daddy-long leg shadows stretch out in front of us.
The closer we get to Haystack Rock the more we hear the communal cries of the seagulls that call the rock home. They fly around and nest on the rock as bees around a hive, calling all the while.
"Do you want to jog?" M asks. "Is your lower back sore too?" I reply. Yes. We start our jog. I feel it even more in my back. "Wait, I'll have to stretch first." We limber up with some stretches. Our mid-life bodies aren't what they used to be. Stretching with my elbows on my bent knees, I surprise myself with a view of Haystack Rock from upside down between my legs. I probably haven't done this since I was a child and then it was for fun. I smile to myself. Is this a subtle sign that we are indeed headed toward a second childhood in later life?
We jog back, rinse our feet and enjoy our morning ritual of a hot cup of tea.
