What We Forget

When you live by the water.... if you're not careful... the sound of it can become so ingrained, that it's ignored. Maybe like the wind in the trees. Or birdsong.

Or, three times a day you can walk down the steps... faced with a vast sea of blue, or brown or gray and not see it... besieged as you are by daily minutiae... jaded as you are because, well... it's always there.

And then some nights... most, really... while in bed, you find yourself rocked by the moonlit view and the rhythm.

................

Tonight I was walking Meander. It was late enough for the neighborhood to be quiet, and I wasn't paying attention to more than my own thoughts.

And then there was a familiar sound that made me stop. A slow, triple 'shish'... 'shish'.... 'shish' -long pause, and then the heavy heaving of a large wave upon the rocks. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.

I have wanted to forget because it's just too painful not being with the water. For the most part, I have. But hearing that tonight? I don't know if it was joy or anguish.

Bittersweet is too small a word.