Day Three Hundred and Two: Rugrats
I’ve been having these weird dreams about this cottage I used to visit
when I was younger. It was on the water,
and I remember dreaming about it in highschool and I was with faceless friends
and we were all wearing our university sweaters and drinking coffee’s and watching
the water at night. Sometimes I only
hear the waves roll in, and it is fine with me.
The waves, despite how little I hear them anymore, make me nostalgic and
comfortable. It’s one of the sounds that
I remember from when I was younger, spending long days at the beach.
I remember this one time I was in the back seat and wasn’t wearing a
seat belt (certainly the oldest car I’ve ever been in) I was about three, and I
had a large beach towel. My grandma and
auntie were taking me to Port Elgin for the day. We had left early so I spent most of the trip
playing in the blanket half asleep, and I thought we had parked the car so I
stood up. Alanis Morrisette was playing,
and then there was a jolt, and I landed on something sharp and cut open my
knee. I cried silently in the back
seat. I don’t know if either of them
know that happened. I didn’t tell them.
I spent the whole day in a wind jacket and climbing over rocks, listening
to the waves, playing in the sand, and pretending I was older having
adventures. Beaches, the water, Lake
Huron and now the ocean make me feel so comfortable I could stay there forever. Last year in England we spent a few hours on
the beach in Dover. With the rocks under
my back and the sky above me, I heard the waves that connected me to
France.
I don’t really know why I decided to write about this today, or what it
all means, and I’m not sure I care. I
remember being at that cottage I dream about and my sister and the boys who
owned the cottage going swimming after dark and it was freezing. I remember hearing them squeeling with joy
and terror of the cold water, the rocks under their feet. I didn’t go in. I regret it, a little, but only a
little. I haven’t missed a moment to get
in the water since.
X
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