Monday, August 8, 2016

Caution in the Wind

Caution in the Wind

The wind blew off the Gulf in a steady gust, making the caution flag stand stiff and straight toward the shore. The whitecaps were pounding the beach, pushing the salt water roughly into the powdery sand of the number one beach destination in Florida...Siesta Beach. The grey clouds of rain gathered just off shore in the distance, threatening and teasing. And yet people came with hope and anticipation that the day would just get better.

As much as I wanted to get into the healing waters of the sea, I knew I couldn't. I shouldn't risk coming in contact with a jellyfish and going into anaphylactic shock. I've been allergic to them since I was stung as a teen and still carry an epi-pen every time I go to the beach. The wind of off-shore storms will often push the creatures closer to shore and cause an issue for me. Despite all my family telling me they had not seen any, I stayed huddled on the beach while they swam. Days like these I feel alone in a crowd and left sitting out of life as an observer. It's like I'm watching the action inside a snow globe, shaking the snow all around to make it swirl, yet I can't be a part of the world inside. It's a weird and isolating feeling.

As the rain began to spit and then steadily soak our belongings, I packed up our most precious possessions that would be damaged in the rain and trekked off to the pavilion for cover. I was part of a herd like exodus from the beach. Alone, but in a crowd, I was now too far away to even watch my family in the waves. Normally I never feel sorry for myself because I would never want anyone else to have the medical issues I do, but that day, I just wanted to participate. I just wanted to be normal. I just wanted to do what I wanted without having to gauge the health consequences of my actions. I wanted to live inside the snow globe, not be separated by the glass walls of illness that make me different.

The rain finally subsided and I returned to the beach, this time armed with my phone...if I could not be a part of the action, I could at least record the scene so I could create with it later. And that is just what I did. I was still an observer, but a different sort of observer. I was one with a mission of recording the beauty all around me that I felt I just couldn't quite touch on this day.

Have a beautiful Monday and a blessed week.


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