The Bay

Yes, I am writing a lot. It's cathartic. I am restless and a little malcontent. Add Christmas hubbub to my run-here-run-there life and I become a bundle of useless nerves.  Except for three things (well, a few more, but let's concentrate here) that soothe me: dancing night (I'm not a great dancer, just a happy one), church...and the Bayfront.

Whether you are from my hometown or not, you can imagine the strength I absorb from the waters of Lake Erie.  I don't have much time in the afternoon these days, and I don't drive at night very much, but every chance I get I take a moment to do a loop around the water.

Sometimes I go to the channel with my Pepsi and yogurt, watching fishermen and sailboats and seagulls. To my left I see what Mom liked to call the "pyramids", big piles of sand and stone, and the  lake-size ships that deliver them. Noisy when the world is quiet, but I enjoy the satisfying grind of their engines and the "thunk" as they deliver their load.

Across the bay is the Peninsula ("Presque Isle"), with the monument to Oliver Hazard Perry at its tip. I can no longer make out the obelisk, but I know it is there. Directly across from me is the pier where masses of seagulls ignore Herry, the omnipresent great blue heron. Ah, to see what Herry sees, his great wings taking him over the blue bay waters and back to his perch.

Sometimes I choose the lake instead. Today the horizon is non-existent. The fog, still lifting, the grey of the morning clouds obscuring Gull Point. If one was put down here, with no reference to the city, one could imagine the ocean with little difficulty. On a north-wind day the waves smash the shore; give us a south wind and the water has an indescribably beautiful sheen. 

I love to cross the rickety tiny bridge and sit under the trees. People-watching, dog watching are great sports.

I remember every minute I've spent at the bay or on the beach. The water composes its own tune in my head, taking me on flights of fantasy and adventure that I can't even write about because no mortal like me can put those feelings into words.

I head back to my mundane day of laundry and groceries and work. For a few minutes I was somewhere else. I wish I could take you there, to see what I see, to experience what I experience.

It is renewal.