Haibun: Beach Sand

For Marian’s prompt at Toads, one word: muddy

Haibun: Beach
Sand
“I wonder if my first breath was as soul-stirring to my mother as her last breath was to me.” Lisa Goich-Andreadis

My mother and I were a lot alike. One thing – we both hated getting our feet muddy. Walking in the dry soil of the garden, striding across the lawn in the dew of early morning, skipping in the waves of the ocean and dodging inbound crabs in the sand – yes. But muddy feet? No.

When I was interring her ashes in her mother’s grave, I took a ziploc bag of North Carolina beach sand and put some into the hole I had dug. I poured in her ashes and then the rest of the sand. I patted it down firmly and placed several rocks on the place. Sweat dripped from my face like tears.
hot summer day –
buried in NC beach sand
that she loved dearly

 

January Solitude Part II 2:14 am

I awaken.

Lying in the warmth of the bed

I orient myself to the strange room.

I snuggle in with satisfaction.

I am at the beach.

I am alone.

The sliding glass door

Off the balcony is cracked.

Ocean waves slough softly.

The air has a sweet smell

In addition to the salt.

I breathe more deeply

Testing the smell.

Sweet with salt?

Out of the bed and into my robe

And slippers.

I open the balcony door completely

And step outside.

It is snowing.

I stand and watch the flakes

Hurrying down to nestle on the sand.

Flakes gather on my hair

My robe

My hands and face.

Snow and ocean.

Sweet and salt.

Back into the room

And I rush to put on my clothing

And down jacket, gloves, and hat.

I grab the door key and out

Into the night.

No one is around.

I cross the sand and

Go to the edge of the surf.

Black waves, white foam

Dark sand, white snow.

I wave my arms and jump up and down.

Snow snow snow snow!

Ocean snow ocean snow!

I laugh and hold my face to the sky.

Flakes settle on my skin, my glasses.

I stick out my tongue and taste snow.

I walk along the edge.

Because of my boots,

I walk close enough

For water to touch me.

Snow and surf.

Snow and sand.

Darkness to my left.

Hotels barely lit to my right.

After awhile, I turn and head back.

Shells on the sand

Are fuzzy with snow.

Snow melts on the sand.

I turn back to the surf.

The flakes are falling faster,

Disappearing into the blackness

Of the ebbing waves.

I stand until my face is numb

And my nose runs with the cold.

I hold out my hands to collect

Flakes on my gloves.

They stay long enough for me to

Fall in love with each one

And then they disappear.

 

 

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