Early Sunday morning was overcast and hazy along the shore. The vaporous fog like cigarette smoke lingering in an insulated lounge.
Early risers cast their nets for fishing, impervious to the cold body of water licking their bare legs.
I inhaled great gulps of sea air; the weight of my back pack felt too heavy. I dropped it somewhere and lay down to observe the crushing waves.
There is a perfect synchronization and rhythm to its motion. I become aware that in the vast and voluptuous contour of the magnificent ocean, a school of dolphins have come to play.
They have congregated right in front of me, and they seem eager to put on a good show. As graceful as ballerinas they propel to the surface, only to plunge with synchronized precision into their natural habitat.
Like traveling performers they play, entertain, and show off unabashedly.
I feel connected somehow, as if this were a sign. As if they had appeared to remind me of the wonder of life. Oddly I am filled with vibrant joy -- and gratitude -- for the privilege to have been the selected audience.
Its little joys like these, so seldom purchased, which create the wispy web of happy memories.
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