Treasures

Sometime during the night I had decided it would be a good idea to walk on the beach all the way to Fort Macon this morning.  I have somehow pulled a muscle in my lower back - probably as a result of doing some new core exercises yesterday morning on the yoga mat - so I knew it would be good to walk it out.  Yesterday morning I ran a little over four miles and it felt better with every step.  And it was the same today; I stopped to stretch from time to time, and each time I could feel it getting looser, so that by lunchtime it was almost back to normal and I could keep up with Martha.

Low tide was at 10:17 a.m., and not by design but by coincidence that is exactly the time we set foot on this flat, wide beach.  It is so easy to walk on, or run on, at low tide.

There is something therapeutic about a long walk on the beach beyond the merely physical, just as there is on a long run.  We talked a little about the increasingly disturbing decisions our new President is making day by day from his retreat in Florida (while his Slovenian Queen is locked away in her golden tower in New York); we talked about family and friends and the struggles they are facing; and we talked about the struggles in our own lives.  But step by step the tension began dissolving, like the footsteps we left behind in the sand as the waves softly washed in.

Rocks with long green mossy hair combed by the waves; a sand dollar with a bite taken out of one corner; the shell from a horseshoe crab; and one perfect sand dollar that Martha found that, sadly, broke in half while she was carrying it in her pocket with another one.  I could hear my own little collected shells clinking lightly with every step like change in my pocket.

We stopped at Fort Macon and realized we were hungry and thirsty, but we had neglected to bring any money at all.  They had a water fountain there and we drank heavily, and Martha said they sold some snacks in the gift shop, but I don't think they would have accepted a handful of shells.

On the way back, a man was sweeping a metal detector back and forth, back and forth, hoping to find something more valuable than shells.

And these gulls perched on the roof at the picnic area were carefully watching nearby picnickers with their usual greedy eyes.

As we neared the end of our walk, Martha looked back and saw a massive freighter sailing out from Morehead City port, carrying treasure of its own, I suppose.

Everybody seemed to be looking for treasure this day.  We were happy with what we picked up on this peaceful beach - plenty enough for us - and what we left behind.