“Let’s go to the beach?”
“What time is it?”
“It’s just after 11:30.” I provide. There is some small discussion here, but in the end the end the sound of rain falling down and the thunder in the sky were enough to motivate us off the couch and down the stairs and into the light rain that was flashing.
The sand clings to my toes, the rain to my hair. The sky is loud and dark and the waves a perfect compliment on the beach after hours. There is a quiet solitude about it but the city lights make it bright, not dark night that we wonder into. The night is cool and the sky flashes above us.
The light is purple fantastic with streaks of pale white light, I am fascinated by the streaks, the beam across the sky, too fascinated. Someone grabs my hand and pulls and we walk away, back to a quiet place, covered, slight shelter but still outdoors so we can see the sky and feel the electric charge and cling of the air around us.
The air feels good, that smell of ozone and fresh warm wet feeling. The hair on my arms stands up in it, my head swims with night and wine, and thunder. Lighting shafts again across the sky and makes for a kaleidoscope fantasy. I want to fall into soft sand, to role into it, to feel something different for a while, but am pulled back again. There sleeping in the shelter on the beach and curled up happily safe from the storm is a homeless man.
I feel angry for having to share my moment, then happy he has found shelter, then my head swims again and I feel a hand pushing me, pulling me, leading back towards the quiet inner chaos of apartment and the wine and the Friday night festivities. As we walk back I long to be a part of the lightening, to just streak across the sky for a moment, to live in a flash, burst of light, explosion. To be a flash and then an imprinted memory that for just a moment makes someone’s night beautiful.