An Unfamiliar Sun

I found myself walking over the hot sands, but this particular sunrise was different.

It was early morning once again, but the dawn seemed less promising than usual. I had gotten up early that morning, anticipating another hot day. I walked over the warm sands as I had many days before. Arriving early, I tried to secure a decent spot far removed from the crowded locations, and finally arrived at an isolated section. This was my favorite part of the beach, It was the section where I’d had found that strange metal case with the odd writing on it a few months prior, it felt like good luck. I placed my blanket in the ground but it didn’t feel right. The sand no longer felt soft, it seemed to have hardened over the summer, reinforced by the heat. I felt it pushing against my sneakers with each step, a harsher ground underneath fighting my steps. I looked above towards the sun and the clouds no longer looked idle, drifting lazily overhead. They moved defiantly, swirling across the sky, singularly intent on maintaining their position, forming ever smaller circles in defensive maneuvers. They seemed like typhoons spinning around, attempting to forestall the inevitable passing of time. They summoned smaller clusters from around them, merging into each another, converging into vast shapes that seemed intent on preventing the wind from blowing them apart.

I studied their movements above me and they signaled that summer was no longer endless. Gazing across the sound, the mysterious islands I had visited only once for a brief yet memorable night, seemed to have drifted further away from shore, inevitably sliding further out of reach. Their secrets cloistered within, they slipped out of my grasp. Disappearing into the haze, they seemed to be sliding back under the water, closing down and preparing for a long slumber ahead. I outlined them with my fingers, trying to hold onto their shapes and contours. I noted the heights of the trees and the lighthouses and wondered if they’d grow next year, or if they’d disappear under a random storm’s haughty swipe or suffer an even worse fate.  Despite all that had happened, I wasn’t completely convinced. I had gone on several adventures, but in some ways, it felt I hadn’t seen enough. There were scattered clues she’d left for me. It wasn’t enough for things to make as much sense as I thought they should.  It seemed that the summer was slowly turning on itself. Looking across the sound, I noticed that the waves were growing larger, forming crests and rising quickly above the currents. They created sharper patterns than usual, crashing aggressively against the shore. The ocean seemed to be resisting time, and seemed to be protecting itself from the unceasing pull of time and space. I looked at the waves closely, despite its best efforts to stave off tomorrow; things were going to change sooner or later.   

As the morning wore on, things began to calm slowly. I took a deep breath, allowing the warm air to enter my lungs. I walked further down the beach, to the section where I would usually set up my blanket to go swimming or diving. The tide was out, making the shallow water too low to dive, and as I watched the waves, they looked especially choppy and unwelcoming. I decided not to let it bother me and instead focused on the shoreline, strewn with rocks, sea shells and, the occasional cluster of sea weed. I watched the tides slowly pull further and further out, revealing more of its submerged secrets as it slipped away. Despite my many visits, I felt strangely out of place. I took off my sandals and walked down towards the water. I tried to keep my balance on the rocky uneven surface, slowly maneuvering over their sharp edges until the waves were covering my sore feet. I turned around and looked to see if anyone else was there. A few more people had arrived, but it was late in the season and no one seemed to have a sense of urgency. I stood there for a few minutes, letting the water wash over my feet and slowly made my way back to the blanket. I sat down and put my hands on the ground and felt them sink into the sand. They didn’t sink as much as I expected, but they still made a suitable anchor while I balanced. I looked around and saw that I was suddenly surrounded by an army of other people who had converged on the shoreline. I gave myself the luxury of another deep breath and held it in, not wanting to release the summer, and took a moment and let it flood over me once again. In that moment, I immediately remembered the way it had felt, only a short few months before. In the mornings, I’d arrive and it would feel like I was coming home, with a welcoming burst of the ocean air greeting me with the summer light.