#21 Low Tide

On Not Knowing What to Do

We went to the beach yesterday.

The tide was so far out, a field of rocks was exposed between the shore and the one massive rock that’s always visible. It’s rectangular, like a half buried train car. The pelicans like to stand on it.

A starfish was attached to a rock close to shore; not a good place, but it seemed ok. The tide was coming in.

I oriented when my feet hit the water, as if I’d been pinned on a map, and the static that’s always buzzing in my head disappeared for awhile.

I spend most of my time trying to orient myself, as if I’m never really sure where I am. I worry constantly that I’m meant to be acting on information I don’t have. The ocean takes that away. I can finally see, and for once, I’m fine with not knowing what to do with myself.