Falling

Friday, June 12, 2009

If dreams are indicators of desire, then my pillow-nestled head pined for salty froth and pebbled beaches last night; I awoke this morning completely ensconced {OED definition: To establish in a place or position for the purpose of a. of concealment; b. of security, comfort, ‘snugness’} by the idea that I was still there. Still lounging on my official start-to-summer vacation. A place that now, in memory, lives vibrant; carrying me through the mundane; reminding me just how lucky. I. Am.

When did it begin? Well, I could say it started when our trip executor, who sadly is currently packing to move out west, thought a weekend in the Outer Banks, North Carolina would be the proper send-off for him and his sweet
wife. Eleven of us could not agree more. Some of these folks I'd been to Rehoboth, DE with back in 2006, so I was somewhat prepared for the group dynamic. In all my preparation, I only had one smidge of anxiety (namely that my ex's roommate would be there). Thankfully, this faded quickly, once I stopped worrying (really?!) over such a petty issue. That's about all I knew going in, well, that and my dinner assignment for the last night. Which, btw turned out perfect. (Marinated salmon, fresh parmesan sauteed farmer's market vegetables, a summer three-bean salad, and a delectable peach/raspberry Ina inspired crisp.)


The trip was organized but chill. No drama (except for the fact that I managed to leave behind my darling hour-glass white dress cover-up). No meat market. No worrying about how I looked in a swimsuit. No sharing a house with 25 strangers. None of that. It was exactly the way Duck Beach should be; sharing it, albeit in somewhat close quarters, with people I care about. I never imagined my costal excursion would also include: a visit to the Wright Brothers memorial in Kitty Hawk, an energizing 28 mi bike ride to Cutterick lighthouse followed by a 220 step climb to the top, an ankle-tingling sand storm, the solitude of a hot-pink sunrise, out-load reading of Sedaris and Kipling, bocce ball in my new straw hat, a foot massage, MST3K (for old times), letter writing, DQ, and one frothy last night lapping up every ounce of the beach beneath a full moon.

In essence, the trip recalibrated my soul.

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