Flying Geckos!!

Well there's something you don't see every day: giant 100 foot long geckos flying around at the beach. I mean, really! Everyone knows the beach is not a gecko's natural habitat! Yet there he was, gliding along on the gusty wind coming in from the ocean; his tail dragging a bit in the sand. He was kind of hard to ignore. Thankfully he wasn't blocking the sunlight, or I would have put my foot down. Just because you have relatives in the insurance business, doesn't mean you can inconvenience everyone on the beach. I have to admit, he did seem quite peaceful and I was a tad jealous watching him zig and zag up there with the clouds. The tide was high, so my usual activity of searching for seashells was thwarted. My attention, therefore, alternated between the crashing waves, my surfing son, and the waving gecko. Not a bad view actually.  We stayed awhile, but my son got tired of surfing, and wanted to go. We bid the huge reptile adieu, brushed the sand off our bodies and headed home.

Caren E. Salas

photo by William Salas

Breathe

I can never seem to explain my overwhelming love for the ocean. It draws me in like a rip tide.  I can't even conceive of living somewhere where I couldn't at least jump in my car and be there in 20 minutes.  The feel of the wind...the sound of the waves pounding the sand...it's like: weighlessness.  It's fascinating to me the way the water pushes up a little farther with each swell, or pulls in a little closer, powerful and yet...a slave to the moon.  I can spend hours searching for shells and sea glass, or exploring tide pools, in search of hermit crabs and urchins.  After a while I can feel the salt on my hair, and my skin, and I don't care.  When I die, throw my ashes into the sea so I can be in that blue-green heaven, swimming with the dolphins, gliding through liquid space like a manta ray.  Meanwhile, I'll just spend my free moments (rare, though they may be) walking along the shoreline, because that's where I find my peace, and inspiration.  When the craziness of life starts to suffocate me, I find my way to the beach
...and breathe.


Caren E. Salas

No Lifeguards on Duty

     There's something about having a lifeguard around that makes me feel...secure. I'm actually a pretty good swimmer, and honestly, if a shark was attacking me, chances are the lifeguard would look out, say "damn" and call someone to pick up the pieces. Still, I think it's just the idea of someone watching over me.  Lifeguards are the keepers of the peace; the enforcers of the rules; an icon of safety on the beach.

If only I could have my own personal lifeguard to follow me around all the time and keep me from drowning. Often, I feel like I'm a little piece if driftwood, floating about in the huge ocean, helpless to control my speed or direction. I'm bobbing on the waves holding my breath each time I go under, and then gasping for every molecule of air I can get each time I get back to the surface. I'm searching for a lifeguard to rescue me, but instead there's a airplane circling over my head with a banner saying "You're on your own, baby!"

I'm pretty sure I used to have a raft, or a body board at least.  I suppose I will just have to keep swimming, stay afloat as long as I can, and hope for the best. Who knows? Maybe I'll end up on the shore of a tropical island.

Caren E. Salas