Saturday, August 29, 2009

This energy--the waves, the lack of Armyness, the sunrise--makes the thought of ever going home a painful one. Here, there is less urgency to be married (the root of all turmoil).

I think that I could learn to live for the moment if our Saturdays were started at dark on the beach, me huddled in towels watching his dark figure paddle out beyond the waves that crest.

But he loves his work a lot more than surfing. Why? I have no earthly idea. He's one of the black specks bobbing with the water's rise and fall, the closest you will ever get to a recognizable photo.

He told me once that standing on the beach in either Italy or Spain made him feel like getting paid for his job was unbelievable, and that other times he felt like he was earning every. red. cent. Two years later I understand that sentiment more than he may ever know. But moments with this much peace pulsing through them probably are too good to be true for longer than a few hours.

[live in the present, begin with the face value of being here right now]

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