There is no you and me

There is no you and me

I stroll lazily down Inch Beach and burst out laughing hoping no one hears me. The silliness ties my brain in a Celtic knot because Inch Beach is actually three miles long. Who named this lovely place Inch Beach and what were they thinking? Seems like their math skills are about as accurate as mine. I guess names like life are mostly a never ending mystery. The aroma of the sand strikes my senses and brings back long ago forgotten memories. I remember a homework assignment from school which at the time seemed utterly ridiculous. 

“Go out and smell dirt,” he said. “And write a 3 page paper on the smell and how it made you feel. It’s due by the end of next week.”

And for this I pay huge amounts of money to improve my brain and hopefully gain employment with a high salary. Little did I imagine that smelling a lump of dirt in the cold morning air would open my eyes and send me on a different path way.  Life is not always a bowl of cherries but a journey through a maze of spider webs and absent reality. There is no you and me.

I kick the sand with the tips of my toes and notice the dark nail fungus that is eating away at my big toe. Soon it will wind up my legs like a morning glory although not as pretty. It will creep into my body and devour my soul. My body will become an empty vessel and the strong ocean breeze will blow it into bits of dust and sand. I look down and wonder if I am walking on the souls of others who have taken this path. 

The cold blustery wind swirls the sand giving it substance and a mind of its own. I think about crop circles and image they are painted by the force of the wind. The course sand is sculptured and formed as if spun on a potters’ wheel.   There is a big difference between the sloppy grey clay and the course pink tinted sand. The inch seems to stretch to the end of the earth. If I walk to the end of Inch Beach where will I be? 

Complacent waves hit the shore slowly and precisely.  The rhythm and gentle roll mesmerizes me and brings flashbacks of long ago tunes that tickle my ears. The music lifts me and touches my center with the melody of the mermaids keeping the beat soft and enticing. Not that I have ever heard mermaids singing but at times my imagination takes on hurricane force.

I wish to be a mermaid and spend my eternal life swimming in the ocean with the sun shining upon my scales. The water looking like rippled stained glass. I would breach the water and slap my massive tail against the water just like the humpback wales. Tourist would flock to get a rare look at the beautiful and elusive lady of the sea. I would sing like a siren and entice hard working watermen to search for me in vain and forget about their nets and much needed profits.

Then I would have to spend my endless days swimming in the sea looking out for dangers and perhaps captivity and end up in some aquarium. Tourists would pay money to look at me and only see the sadness that my eyes hold. There is so much about mermaids that I truly do not know. Like can they leave the water? Does their tail really turn into two shapely legs? Does fungus grow on their tails?  Do they have a merman to share their life with? Do they have stores beneath the ocean? Where do they get their hair and nails done?  So many unknowns, perhaps I should rethink this mermaid adventure. I could never give up long walks on the beach with the wind whipping my golden locks into a tangle. I would miss the tide washing away footprints in the sand and sandcastles collapsing into oblivion and tweetie birds rushing along looking for a meal.  Holding hands and dreaming dreams. There is no you and me.

The sun is shooting down shards of blistering heat as I inch my way down Inch Beach that is much longer than an inch. I look off into the distance with the sun scorching my back and see my life ending or perhaps beginning. 

“Who knows,” I shout out to the total desolation of the beach. 

Where are the people I wonder? This absolutely fantastic beach with blue water just like my gorgeous eyes: empty. Not only is it devoid of people but not one single sea shell to add to my collection. Time goes by beneath the sky and by the sea. What fascination does a small seashell hold? How many oceans has this fossilized object traveled? I don’t think I would ever image myself with the life of a sea shell. Snatched up off the shore and plunked in the base of a lamp or glued onto a foam wreath to be hung at the front door. Silly me, I have done this very thing. Sitting right before my eyes is a coke bottle filled with olive shells. The quirky thing is the coke bottle has my name printed on it in a bold red scroll. A single bottle, all alone filled with memories of which I have almost forgotten. There is no you and me.

“Where have all the seashells gone beside the sea, long time passing dreaming dreams, breaking waves like dust in the wind, the road is long” I belt out a mish mash of songs I try to tie together. Singing is not my forte. 

My bare feet squish in the sand and the cold shoots up my legs like an electric shock. And, yes, I, do, know that static feeling. The first kiss and as time goes by the charge fades away little by little or inch by inch. So, perhaps I have a connection to Inch Beach or a memory hidden behind the dark curtain. I look down at my feet to make sure that haven’t turned into flats of frozen fish. But all I see is the crud of calloused dead skin clinging to my heels. Cold wet sand covers my sad looking toes. Thank you to the sea fairy for blocking that from my mind, out of sight out of minds.   My foot dream would be soft pink baby feet tiptoeing through the sugar sand.

Who am I this enigma who trolls along the beach, fantasizing about creatures that only exist in fairy tales and folklore.  This is my world for which I have total control. Well, actually someone has control and not necessarily me all the time. I feel this pull from the sea and she whispers to me thoughts, ideas and warnings. She sings me lullabies, warms my cold heart and soothes my soul. I see the light at the end of the tunnel or to the end of Inch Beach that is more than an inch and less of a lifetime. There is no you and me just the melody of waves crashing against the shore.