Sunday, December 26, 2010

Southampton: Shaking off that Grey-ish feeling.

There really was only one thing to do. Get out of the house.

The Backyard was lovely, 

but it was time to get out and explore.

Thankfully, the beach was a 1/2 block away. 

I never said I was a big explorer.

This is my dog on one of the two dedicated benches as you gain access to the beach.  

Each bench has its own plaque. 
One says: 
"In Loving Memory of... 
but the other one, the one my dog is NOT sitting on, says: 

"Dedicated to.... the Love of My Life"
I started to get weepy.

We started to walk;  it was a tad windy.

Pretty Beautiful, huh?

During the season, I think this activity is highly illegal

As is this:

And this...
As well as this

I was suddenly overwhelmed with thoughts of My Mother. I thought how much she loved the ocean, from the days of her childhood to the day she died.

When you're on the West Coast, the thought of going to Europe is daunting;  the travel time discourages many a trip. Standing here on the eastern portion of Long Island, I think how "it" - France, is within arms reach.

And, again, I thought about turning back. I mean, what was I doing? I'm idling in Southampton. It's Los Angeles all over again. Just a different locale.

And then, I thought about moving forward -  and really, France was so close.

I started running on the beach, and I could hear my Mother talking about her memories in France, running and doing gymnastics at the seaside. Do you know how difficult it is to run on the beach? Let me tell you something, it's HARD. I  tried to focus on the stories My Mother told me and remember the way her face would light up to keep me going. The breathing thing was getting a little tricky though, and I seriously didn't know how much longer I could go on. 

And I wondered at the same time if I did pass out, would anyone EVER discover me? I mean, it IS off season. The tide was coming in. OMG. Did anyone ever come out here?? I should stop. No, I need to keep going. This is crazy, just stop. 

I was interrupted by a text. 

A text from the city. 

The apartment was mine.

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