Tuesday, August 12, 2014

I purposely didn't bring my camera with me this weekend, so these photos are from a mid-week beach adventure
with a good friend of ours a few weeks ago that I never got around to posting. Hashtag slow blogging.

This weekend was nothing to write about, but everything you want to write about and can hardly find the words for. It was slow and peaceful and rejuvenating, but tiring all at the same time. We didn't do much, but I found myself taking in the beauty of it all, the beauty in doing nothing. Oh, what a wonderful day Saturday is in Brooklyn. I'm sure it's wonderful anywhere, but here in Brooklyn it's like a holiday. All the rigidness of the weekdays are gone and people pretend they have the money to buy things - they eat well, they drink well, they say hello to their neighbors, they go on dates, they stay up 'till all hours of the morning just celebrating because tomorrow is another free day. You can feel it in the air as you listen to the city coming awake from your open windows and when you walk the sidewalks. The brick buildings have a way of turning colors as the sun rises and spreads its rays upon them. That golden color seems to stick around a bit longer on Saturday and Sunday mornings.

This Saturday we woke and agreed that we didn't want to do too much today. We just wanted a simple day together, so we packed up our beach things and hopped on a bus headed for Staten Island. We have a secret little beach spot over there that we rarely share with many people even on weekends. It's quite a hike from the bus stop to the sand, but it's always worth it. We grabbed a quick New Yorker breakfast - bagels - and headed to the shore. We gathered up a few pieces of driftwood to build ourselves a shady spot and let the day pass. We walked up and down the beach countless times, collecting sea glass for our jar we've been trying to fill. We all wandered out past the ocean waves and listened to Ev squeal and scream in delight watching Alex swim. She's never seen anyone swim before - I'm not sure she knew it was possible. Ev flew her first kite and was more excited about it than I could have imagined she'd be. We saw a one-legged seagull which she was equally excited about. We even saw a proposal written in the sky with an airplane. We read books under our tent and attempted to get Ev to nap in the shade, but realistically she screamed bloody murder until she passed out for a brief moment then she was up and at it again, making sand castles. It was one of those days that, at the end of it, it was apparent that too many hours were spent in the sun no matter how much sunscreen you applied.

While Ev napped, I walked down the shore and struck up a conversation with a nice retired man who came all the way down from the Bronx. We talked about how the R in 'R line' stands for rare and pondered together about the reasons people walk up to the edge of the tracks and peer down the tunnel every few seconds until the train comes. It's like a choreographed dance - the same people doing it in the same order every few minutes. A few weeks ago, we were entertained by this as we spent 20 minutes waiting for a train to come by the 9th street stop and when it did, it just passed us honking. I had a thought not too long ago as were riding along on the R train - riding the subway is like washing dishes. All the life figuring out that happens in this city, all the meditating that goes on happens on this rickety subway trains. You can look around and see that this is the only time anyone here is forced to be still.

A completely unrelated thought: there is a place down the street from us with a menu pasted to their window advertising 'ha ha noodle soup.' Now why are we laughing? Is this like 'Ha, ha, I got you to eat this?' I'm very curious. I may have to stop in and ask some questions soon.


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