Somewhere between nine and ten years ago I moved out of my parent’s house into my first apartment. The building’s been renovated a few times, slammed by a couple of hurricanes, seen a turnover of renters and owners but has always accepted me with open arms. Long Beach has been my home. Waking up to the sight of the Atlantic at Azores Beach and drifting to sleep each night as the waves crash at the shore has comforted me more than words. The lights from the perfectly aligned cargo ships waiting to enter New York harbour each night no longer look like alien encounters, but nightly friends showing up to say hello. Starry nights, fabulous fireworks, the answers to life’s questions in the whitecaps of the waves and sand beneath my toes at any day I wish have been constants, comforts and joys for the past decade. To say I will miss it is an understatement, but it’s time to spread my wings. Read the rest of this entry
It’s starting. As I look out my window on Azores beach, I see them. The people have arrived. Just a few more each day, they’re venturing out of the winter blues and the short lived but pollen filled spring to plant their toes in the sand and their hearts near the sea. Beach passes are being sold in the center of town; I’m already in possession of two. The trucks have arrived. The bright green sand flattener guy rolls by each morning flattening the work of the tide from the night before.
Now come the scooper trucks. Bright yellow in hue, they are here too. Starting to build the sand dunes that should halt destruction if the ocean surges again as she did in October of 2012, they build. They beep as they back up heading to pick up more sand to put in its protective place. Read the rest of this entry