Offering Diamonds to the Sea

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So, another journey, another adventure, a repeat performance from over 40 years ago with one new character as one went missing. The four brothers were on the road again.

As aging characters with life experiences, this trip would be different from the last trip that was made before leaving the shelter of school and wandering into what would become their world.

The night before this adventure begins for me. I have an epiphany. But we’ll get to that when the time comes.

So pack the necessaries for traveling and grab some entertainment and at the designated time and the designated place we are off. Every wandering over five miles is an adventure and this was going to be a BIG adventure.

Rather calm and peaceful we spoke in soft terms to find common ground. When one isn’t around one another one has to feel their way though the minds minefield, but we have some experiences that transcend that.

Upon arrival, an order from the captain comes. “Go, do your thing.” (Little did he know what my “thing” was going to be.)

Up the long path and over the dunes that I didn’t remember, there she was. Just like she was the last time I saw her. Just like she always is. Welcoming the inner beast.

A certain feeling comes over your body when you stand in front of such majesty. A reverence for the size and scope of what you are seeing. A wonder of how long it has been since you have been apart. Without a word I stand in awe absorbing the sound and basking in the warmth. Her breath splashes on my face like a kiss.

One-by-one we all assemble to our new temporary homes, finding our way around a vast labyrinth of wonder to the endurance for reward. No possible concierge could provide such elegance at a place that I associate with basic pleasurable discomfort.

Drinks are chilled, food is prepared and conversation lowers walls of strangers becoming friends again after their long voyage. Cracks and potshots remind us of older times and new experiences emerge. We follow the sun for warmth and chatter finding conversation easy. As we constantly count the flying bombers the tense road trip fades away to laughter. These are comfortable people in a truly loving environment of old friends back together for what maybe the last trip.

Adult beverages test the waters and wash away the trail dust the chief prepares the stew of potatoes and parsley.

Being out of season is in season for us. The sentry’s are now bikers providing us with black crow escorts. A few around us peer out to notice the addition then hide back into their own world.

The plan is set, but not today. Tomorrow.

After a quick nap the cook, er chef provides a feast for the weary travelers who are become family around the table. Once bread is broken together there is a bond, a bond of a period of time thrust together by choice of remembrance and fellowship.

Even the banjo tune livens up the lot, but no one dances.

One by one we retire to our beds with full tummies and warm thoughts for the next day together. The surroundings are too plush and soft, but sleep overcomes the anxiety of being in an unknown place.

 

The call of duty offers a peek into the darkness. Perhaps another hour of two of rest before venturing into another unknown, but that is not an option this morning.

For the sun will rise as it does everyday but you do not see it. Arising to hear the roar and wait for the vision.

Wandering around in a new environment in the dark and only the silence broken by the roar. The constant roar is beckoning to be rewarded as I finger the offering to mother earth.

Water to wash away the fairly early breakup and I peer into the darkness. The clouds obscure the sparkles so I write a remembrance of the day before it fades into light.

One by one the others shake the cobwebs and gather round the table.

And then there it is. The orange tint against the clouds awakens the dawn. After an awe and wonder as if this did not happen everyday, but it is here in this holy place, the paparazzi tries to capture the moment.

But he was hiding. The big orange globe had only reflected its brightness before peaking up over the horizon. The wonders continue.

Strong coffee, soft conversation and laugher of the previous night start to fill the air only interrupted by the counting of the bombers in even and odd numbers.

The sun is up; the companions are up, the time is right.

Placing another layer to avoid the wind since the morning has brought a stronger movement from the north.  With the wind at my back and dark clouds cross the sky, I venture out into the unsteady ground, sinking a little and then finding a surface to maintain my pace. Wandering aimlessly among the remainders of other lives gone by I find a spot. There is no sense of civilization around only wild natural setting like it has been for millions of years. This was the spot.

Reaching deep in my pocket I pull out the bangles that symbolize ancient rituals of companionship and commitment to another. One-by-one they fly out into the wind and will a tiny splash disappear.

Perhaps they will be drawn out to the depths to rest forever with the pirate’s loot that scatters this coast? Perhaps they will wander separately across the vastness only to show up on some foreign shore? Perhaps they will just be buried as they lay and gone forever in mystery? Perhaps they will come back to be found by some tourist or eaten by some feathered friend searching for sustenance.

Whatever the reason or whatever the cause, I had performed my duty.

As I slowly stepped back to the party, the sun broke the clouds and a stream of light lit a spot of still dark water like a spotlight. Was it a sign? A sign of what is more the question.

Now the planning the day for these travelers had started. What do we eat? What do we drink? What do we do to entertain ourselves for the hours to come without tearing into each other more than verbal paring?

At 9:00 it is time for a beer after being up for six hours.

We pair up into foragers and preparers. The foragers travel back in time and in a different direction to the site of a previous adventure. Roughage, protein, and alcohol fill the requirements. But the foragers get a treat the others will miss.

Another unexpected welcome and smiling face greeted these geezers to a conversation fantasy as the “Gag” girl from so long ago. “What do they do to make them so pleasant down here?” I wondered. Maybe I’m just partial to going back to Caroline.

With the food stuffy stored and ready for a later preparation, the four travels and our cottage mom relaxed into electronics. All sorts of pads and pods and tops and buttons to control all that technology has available were pulled out of various black bags quietly as she slept. The jargon bantered about would have only been onlh understood in an IT convention a few years ago. Problems solved, files shared, research and utilities followed by games and constant checks to the surrounding world to see if there was any extremely important life-changing messages. Then another bomber count questions the pattern or algorithm of their approach and departure.

Occasion sidebars of sandy steps, windy one-on-one unchallenging conversations reveling no secrets, strange noises strummed from past themes of former lives yet the main goal of our weekend entertainment seems to need a plug.

Have times changed so much from the last trip or do we have more diversions?

A teacher, two government executives, a techie and an old retired artist can only lose themselves in their electronics to communicate or is it they cannot communicate and never could?

The experience, like any experience with people whom you see only occasionally, has certain formalities but these people have been together, for the most part, for over 40 years. Each had chosen their path and created experiences with others that can only be described to others and associated with their own similar experiences. For after such a long time, this will be the first gathering of a partial tribe with only the excuse of consumption and conversation.

 

So with hugs and sighs a perhaps last good-byes, the travelers part their ways to go back to their worlds and lives and friends and children and problems and needs and wants and joys and failures and day-to-day comings and goings with another blip in time shared by all of them. No one changed their lives, no one saw God (I don’t think), and no one found the ultimate wisdom by being in the company of the others.

For something good is to be said about people whose names you recognize and brings smiles to one another’s face and can comfortably co-exist for a short period of time.

As for me, I accomplished my goal of removing trinket reminders of daze gone by without remorse or regret, for the memories will go on and the history remains the same.

As for the others; one will move his daughters college furniture before returning home, one will travel for many hours before grocery shopping and cuddling with familiar screens, pups and toys, while another one settles back into finding a new way of life.

Me? Well upon arrival without any accidents or rumbles, I unpack to the calls from the hungry yard occupants. My sandy goods are just left in a pile as I journey to the local consumption provider that is still in working order even without me for a couple of days to stoke up on the necessities of life.

Once the yard boss comes up to me informing me, along with a munching of newly arrived seed, that everything is back to normal now I am back, she slowly and quietly hops down the path welcoming me home.