The tides of our lives, everything always comes back to sand
Outdoor photography exhibition in CDMX, Sea Turtle
I admit this is a slightly cheesy title-the tides of our lives. Immediately, I hear the theme music of Days of our Lives and the voiceover by MacDonald Carey, Like sands through the hourglass, so are The Days of our Lives. Goggy worked Monday-Friday until she was about 80 years old. She was a housekeeper and cook for an older couple. Her tasks included a weekly trip to the grocery as well as driving her employers to their various appointments and wait reading magazines. If by chance, the couple was out together during lunchtime or better yet on one of their extended vacations then Goggy would take a break to watch Days of our Lives. It is unclear if my mom recommended Days of our Lives to Goggy or the other way around. All I know is that if there was ever a soap opera on then it was Days (This is what the real fans call it.) with the large hourglass and never-ending sand spilling from one orb into the other.
The title also reminds me of The Prince of Tides by Pat Conroy. I eagerly read it, once I realized that it took place on a beach resembling my grandparents’ beach in Pine Knoll Shores. I loved any and all books that made mention of beaches like the ones on the Outer Banks of North Carolina. ( For the sticklers in the audience, I realize South Carolina is the setting for The Prince of Tides.) These beaches were alive. The sand dunes held together by sea oats busy with crabs and shorebirds going about their day. The base of the dunes where the gentle incline met the flat sand of the beach, sea turtles would make the long journey from the surf using their flippers, so elegant in the water and so clumsy on land, to make a nest and lay eggs. The turtles returned to the ocean never knowing how many of the little hatchlings would ever make it into the water, let alone grow into adults.The beach always at play with the ocean. Some years, long walks would yield buckets of sea shells. Other times, you had to take care not to step on a Portuguese Man O’War or a rotting, dead fish cast up on the shore.
Sitting on the beach watching the waves in the late afternoon is my idea of paradise. I especially love it when I have spent the entire day at the beach. My skin is hot from the sun, patterns of dried saltwater on my arms and legs, my hair wild and slightly crunchy. Being able to remain on the beach long into the afternoon allows you to watch the families pack up, the fishing poles emerge, and the birds return. Music from portable speakers fades out, the sound of the surf and wind regains its rightful place on center stage. All the while the sky revealing an entirely new palette of colors, painting the clouds and water.
The waves, the tides, and the sand together day after day, similar but not the same and not unlike our lives.
