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Now’s not the time
The beach was strange that night. A rather weak cold front was pushing through, but didn’t know when or whether to sweep out to sea. So it was sunny and partly cloudy one minute, and then raining the next. Warm and cooler. Wet and dry. There was a misty shroud over the marsh, but with a bright edge of background sunlight waiting to advance from behind and disperse it. Diffused light. An afternoon of contrasts.
An hour or so later, it was dark.
I was coming down the steps of my brother’s house and walked into a little wind storm. The palmettos were flaying wildly and crackling in a stiff breeze. The moon glanced down from its perch in the sky directly above, visible through brief breaks in the clouds.
In front of me the wind seemed to be visible, a wall, a force that tried to keep me back, even as I walked directly into it. I can’t describe the sensation.
I wanted to walk to the darkened beach through that wind, past some real or imagined gateway that allowed me entrance to another world. I sensed it. But only very briefly. I would stand at the water’s edge and find myself disappearing into the night, the air, the water, the reflected light from moon. The golden orb would suddenly be visible over the ocean, and light the way.
I stood there briefly contemplating whether to take that journey over the sand dunes, but decided the time was not right. Another night. Another night.