Hi Dan,
This is really beautiful. The picture looks so
peaceful. wouldn't it be wonderful to live near the
water. I hope you will one day soon. I always wanted
to.
I love you,
Mom
Retreating Into The Wind:
Brewer Sands, Dunes State Park.....
My Sweetheart's cousin has a second house two blocks off the beach.
Lee & Joseph were kind enough to lend us the key for the weekend.
The October weather was chill & windy, sun interspersed with fluffy white clouds.
Up in the morning, yawning & loving.
The ancient metal-spring queen frame with comforting little squeaks, soft, but crisp cotton sheets.
Lounging late and relaxed, dreamy slow.
The house is a white, two-story, fifties style American home, with a side deck.
The little white garage stands alone, there on the alley end.
We arrived late Friday night, or Saturday morning for the technical types, at 12:04 a.m.
Brewer Sands is down the street from the State Park, an old industrial area, suburb of a large city.
The neighborhood reminds me of my hometown, Beloit, Wisconsin.
It's slightly run down, older homes, a homey neighborhood and somewhat quaint.
Inside, the house is decorated in beachy decor & pictures, sandy sunrise pastels,
The aqua blues of water, lots of wood, & hardwood floors.
White chair rail separates the aqua below from the sandy, sunny upper walls.
The fireplace was lonely for firewood, but it would have to wait for another visit.
Grinding morning coffee & making Sweetheart tea, I looked out the kitchen window over the sink.
I could see down to the neighbors' roof, mature trees, T.V. antenna, the house just down the hill.
Squirrels and birds are the other neighbors here, running below my eyes, nesting in waving branch.
I love it here, the furniture covered in colorful pastel sheets, everything old and comfy.
It was like your bedroom at home in the fall when you were a kid, & work didn't exist yet.
Even a bit like grandma & grandpa's place, with old fixtures and cabinet trim.
The sand & the beach pull at your soul, beautiful & restful, even though unseen from here.
You can feel them out there, constant companions in the mental undercurrent.
Running out into the wind in jackets and jeans, Saren & I walk down to the sandy shore,
Sweet yellow sand ripples, constant background roar of the white-capped emerald waves,
Breaking endlessly on the beach. The wind is cold and steady, belittling the bright sunshine,
Matching more the shadows of the numerous puffy white cumulus clouds moving by above.
Trees grow out of the dunes, grasses and creeping vines. The sea gulls swim and swoop in the air,
Or waddle on spindly legs down the beach. The water has no end, this Great Lake shore on
the edge of endless waves seems forever in it's own way.
We come back & pile into the car, near shivering.
Driving off in my pale blue Buick, we head off for a day of exploring the little downtown.
Little shops, artsy, a framing gallery, closed store fronts, lonely and sad, a beach house mural.
It's like stepping back in time.
Breakfast at the local greasy spoon, a day of discussing, ideas & wishes.
I want out. out of the rat race, out of the stress, our own little piece of beach front, maybe.
Maybe a little shop or something in town, time to live, to love, to draw, paint, write.
I want to move closer to my love and closer to my soul so deeply.
Someday, oh someday, we'll own a place here amongst the sand grains, grasses, and waves.
We'll have golden summers and fun, beauty all around us.
We pick up little momentos to remind us, to put in the back of our minds ideas.
Thoughts of how to do this.
Off to a local gourmet restaurant after exploring town.
For now, gourmet dinner will be something special for we two....
Wonderful food in a place tucked away, hidden secret in the back of the local bakery.
For now, we will dream and aspire, hoping for a way, scheming and dreaming of a way.
A way to retreat into the wind.....
AquarianM
By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 10/07/2000 (2k)
Author's Comments...
The place names are changed, but it exists.
This weekend was one we lived,
and hope to, dream to, have many more of.