Sailing from dawn to dusk Good morning to you...good morning to you...good morning dear Kyli...good morning to you..., the song my mom would sing to me joyfully every morning when I was child. On this particular morning, as my eyes slowly opened from a deep slumber, there was no song. Instead, I awoke to the sounds of her lightly tip-toeing around, like the ballerina who skips across the wooden stage with hardly a sound but a quiet hiss of the sand between her slippers and the floor. Mom peeked into my room and with a great expression of enthusiasm she cried out, Get up, get up!, as if this were the day of the Kings arrival. Were almost ready to leave!. Little did she know that I had set my bikini bathing suit out on the end of my wrought iron bed (the spiral curves served as wonderful hooks that would catch clothes as I flung them around in the attempt to find what I was looking for) and could be ready at once if I chose. I pulled my blanket up under my chin in the vain attempt to stop the cold, damp ocean air from enveloping my body. Yet with a shiver, a yawn and a groan that one might mistake as an old tree bending in the wind, I managed to sit up, spin my legs over the edge of my mattress and stretch my arms above my head, making little fists and then opening my fingers as wide as am octave on the keys of a piano. I could see the shuttered window of my bedroom that it was still dark outside. The Mockingbird didnt care as he sang jis morning melody, hopping up and down on his limb, I suppose. I slipped off of my bed and floundered around for a moment in the effort of locating the light switch on the wall. I dressed quickly as the warmth of the heater hadnt reached my room from the main part of the house. A hot cup of English tea with a splash of milk and a spoonful of sugar did the trick and now we were on our way. Our immediate destination was a half hour drive to La Jolla Cove. A beautiful little inlet that is surrounded by jagged cliffs only climbed by the surfers who dared to jump into the water, boards and all, from the very top. As we arrived, the sun was finally burning away the thick fog that lay during the night, as if you were to light a piece of paper with a match and watch the flames eat away the edges as the paper disappears. The seagulls soared over the abandoned beach, scrapping for sandwiches and chips left behind from the beach-goers the day before, beating one another with their giant gray and white wings. There was a sailboat just beyond the breakers. A tall dark haired man stood on its deck waving his arms at us. That was our cue to wade into the cold Pacific Ocean and swim to the boat. We stood at the waters edge, feeling the little sand crabs between ours toes as they burrow themselves deeper into the soft sand. We splashed ourselves with the frigid water before taking our deep breaths and diving under the first foam laced wave. Gasping for air, we came up on the back of the surf making a visual count to ensure everyone was present. We were a small pod of seamen that day. One was our tall, dark Captain who was actually my moms friend and a fellow teacher, the others included my mom who was a glamour puss, my sister who was cool and rather pretentious, her boyfriend, an artist trained by a Disney cartoonist, and me, the adventurous one. We clambered onto the deck of the boat after paddling through the iceberg infested water ( not really, it just felt that way ) and toweled our shivering bodies off before slipping into the woven hoodie jackets we brought along. As we excitedly gathered around the mast of the thirty-five foot sailor, we got our instructions from our Captain and sailed off to the blue waters of Mexico. We bobbed and swayed to the gentle rhythm of the ocean, listening to the water as it lapped up against the sides of the boat. There was a feeling of calmness that the smells, movements and sounds evoked that it made it difficult to do anything more than whisper when speaking to one another. We understood and respected the miracle of the sea. Wakes shaped like pyramids and ripples that appeared on the surface of the water captured glimmers of sunlight, as if there were millions of lights sitting atop each one blinding us as we stared into them. A low mist laid in a thin sheath above the water creating a mysterious wonder of what lay ahead. The shoreline was smothered now by distance and the swells of the ocean as we lay anchor for a swim.
Posted on: Wed, 13 Nov 2013 15:47:27 +0000
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