anyways, i'm still on vacation..and sandy cove is great but much different than i left it five years ago. it's not the same and why, did in high school, everything seem so much more "cool." don't get me wrong...i'm lovin' it, as mcdonald's would say...but it's just not the same. like a memory of a really good movie you watched as a child, it just doesn't seem to be as good as i remembered it to be now. perhaps it's b/c i'm getting old and getting more cynical and sarcastic and critical and pessimistic, but i don't think that's all of it. some of it has to be the idea and mystery of a memory that somehow gets better in your head as time passes. the bad gets wheened out, if you let it go, and then, suddenly, you're left with thie utopian scene that plays over and over in your head, getting better and better after each recollection and revisit.
okay, so the trip to sandy cove hasn't been the same, period. however, it's been good in other ways. i've seen the chesapeake bay and the beach and the rocks in a whole new way. the waves on the water move and glide and drift on and on and i wonder what it would be like for the bay to stop, be still and for 2 seconds, be completely motionless. as i walked by the windows on the third floor that overlook the bay whenever you're on your way to the dining hall i was amazed at the water in particular and found it fascinating for the first time. the way it keeps going and sending its odor faintly along for the kids running along side it to smell. the way the canadian geese flitter and dabble in it as if they're testing to see if it's good enough for their kind. i think water is underated and since we get drenched in it every morning, we miss much of what it is and how wonderful and lovely it has been forever. in times like this, i think of creation and imagine what people might have been looking on at this same bay a hundred years ago. i wonder if they looked at the water and walked on or if they took time to recognize the little oddities that came to the surface or the canadian geese casually stopping by for a brief dip. i wonder and then--not surprisingly--begin to walk by, finished with a moment and too impatient to see anything else. it's sad i know, but it's me. i dare not pretend to be this deep lover of the water, who sits by the ocean for hours and hours basking in the salty sense of its breezy air flowing under my face. i'm just another person, walking by who just happens to look over for a moment at creation and think, 'yes, God was right. this is good.' ;)