Chapter 6

After I cleaned up the lunch debris, I decided to venture on a short examination of the beach.
Since it was early summer, the weather was still mild. The midday sun shone brightly, so I grabbed my straw hat. I walked down the wooden walkway, passing the boathouse. Perry was nowhere to be seen. Silence surrounded the sailboat. “Must be siesta time,” I thought, as I climbed down the stairs to the alabaster sand.

The beach was deserted. Shells lay scattered at the tide’s edge, creating abstract mosaic pattterns. I walked slowly, as sea birds danced in the air. The ocean was a tranquil gray with a few boats dotted on the horizon. The sun played peek-a-boo with feathery white clouds. I headed towards the deserted north end of the beach. Perry’s house was the last one on this section of strand.

Enchanted by the post card images of the island, I followed the beach, watching the sandpipers, as they foraged for small shellfish hiding in the wet sand. The birds would run towards the receding tide, to quickly dig in the sand, gobbling down tiny shells with their tasty morsels hidden within. Then they would comically run back as fast as they could with the returning tide at the heels of their webbed feet. The sand dunes were robust with sea grass scattered around them. I saw a multitude of little holes where small land crabs scurried back and forth.

I glanced back towards the cottage. I was amazed that it was now a dot on the horizon. Noting that the tide was creeping in, I headed back home. As I walked, the warm sun danced on my skin and the surf calmed my spirit. I was glad that I had come to this beach. Nature was embraced me, welcomed me and soothed me. Sea birds glided and cawed to each other, as I strolled back.

I was halfway back, when a sharp pulling sensation in my torso caused me to stop. “Oh no,” I thought, “I’ve over done it again.” I had walked to far out while feeling energetic and had forgotten that I would also feel exhaustion easily. I slowed my pace to almost a turtle crawl. I walked another twenty feet, when I knew that I had to stop for a while. I sat in the sand, hugging myself, while watching the tide as it eased closer.

The scattering of sandpipers caused me to look down the shore towards the cottage. Perry was jogging briskly towards me. He quickly covered the distance. Barely panting, he dropped beside me in the sand, “Are you okay? I saw you fall. I thought you had fainted again.”

I answered weakly, “Just ran out of steam. I walked further than I meant to.”

“The tide is rolling in. Soon there won’t be any beach left to walk on. High tide stops at the bottom of the dunes. Come on, I’ll carry you,” he said.

Ignoring my protests, he lifted me with ease. He held me gingerly, as if I were made of glass and would break. He smelled lightly of sweat and motor oil with a hint of orange. We covered the distance to the cottage in no time.