Negative Tide

Negative tide we approached the cliff, a slow walk on wet sand. Arm in your arm, for togetherness, yes, and also for support, as I leaned on you and then on my wooden cane that I’d bought at a memphis thrift store just in case. How silly. Just in case, I’d laughed at myself standing there amid the always interesting hodgepodge of discarded items, some perfectly good housewares, barely used, some brand new linens still in the unopened package,, never used, gardening supplies and baskets galore, every chotchkey that ever graced a curio cabinet, tools and art supplies, the perfect source for unique teaching materials. The cane had a small crack near the bottom. “perfect for acting classes, I’d told myself to justify buying it. How much is this?” The guys at the check out counter had looked at each other and one had replied, “For you, Ms Charlee, a dollar.” that had sealed the deal.

And here I was just one short year after that week long acting camp, where my sweet, talented students improvised scenes with the cane, an elderly lady crossing the street, a character with a limp who goes rogue on annoying bystanders, a wise old sage bestowing wisdom on seekers. And now, walking in the strange, gray silence of early morning on the rocky Pacific Coast, no one was acting. Something real was happening in my body, and we didn’t know what.

Shallow tide pools lined the shore patched with stretches of rocks, agates waiting to be discovered by the rockhounders with their hunched backs, eyes scanning the ground and backs bending for closer inspections. They so rarely look up from their scouring hunt for treasures. Only a few were on the beach this morning, few and far between. This was a rare event, negative tide, and the wonders to see were even more beautiful, more amazing than we ever would have imagined.

I felt you squeeze my arm. We stopped our slow stroll. I looked up at you sporting your new yellow Tilly hat and looking down at me lovingly. You squeezed my arm again, and your eyes said you’re not alone in this.. Your other hand reaching to pat a reassuring pat that said I am right here.

Just a few more steps to the edge of the great cliff, where boulders were peppered with bright orange and purple starfish clinging to the sides, just a few more steps around the cliff’s end, where sea anemones, rock clams, and starfish all awaited the sea’s return, we walked, a few more steps through a stillness, a few more steps through a sacred space of waiting... Waiting for tides to turn, neither of us knowing these steps were among my last.