On My Rock

I got through another day. This one was really hard. I passed the hundredth hour today while I was at the beach, watching the sun go down. I sat quietly on my rock, not doing anything for that entire hour. This is nothing short of unbelievable. I'm slowing down. I don't have anything to get excited about. I watched the kids and their boogie boards and the people with their dogs, and wondered what happened to the guy from yesterday who built an enormous hole in the sand next to the wall. I watched the shadows fill the dips in the sand, and watched as the water changed color with every wave. This seems to be the only place where I can find solace, however temporary and fragile it may be. My mind stops for a minute and just takes it all in.

There was a couple that walked down the sand. The wandered the other way, then back, and finally sat on a sandy outcropping about fifty feet in front of me. They sat close, and he had a mug of something in his hands. So solace left for a while and reminded me of all the memories we made here. Of all the memories we never got to make here. Would never make. It's terrible to cry when you're trying to watch the sky. And then the guy ruined it all by answering his cell phone. They didn't even wait the ten mintues for the sun to actually go behind the water. But I was glad they left so I had an unobstructed view. And I wished he was there with me, sharing what would have been our third sunset together. I wished he were there, with my head on his shoulder as we watched the sky turn fiery red, then pink, then purple before bowing out to the moon and stars.

But it's just me. On my rock. As removed from other humans as possible. Counting to one hundred and one.