The Walk of Life…

I went for a walk this morning, down on the beach, by Morro Rock. It’s another foggy, overcast, cool day here but there were still lots of people on the beach. I used to walk from the motel, around the Embarcadero, past the PG and E towers and the Coast Guard Station, and around the eddy to the rock. From there, it is just a short walk onto the beach.

I used to walk along the side of the road, in the golden brown dirt that was littered with fragments of seashells. I was quite surprised to see that my dirt path has been replaced by a walkway and a bike path. And both were quite popular this morning.

I parked my car and grabbed my camera. As I walked down the rocky slope to the sand, I felt my heart beat a little faster.

Or maybe my heart rate was the same but the beat was a little stronger. Whichever is true, my heart knew that I am home.

My ancestors were Norsemen, the Vikings of old. They were men of the sea. Appropriately, when my Daddy died, we brought his ashes here and scattered them, in international waters, due west of Morro Rock.

And so, coming to walk on this beach is an opportunity to feel Daddy’s presence again, and share his love for the sea. I found myself walking along the beach this morning, telling him what is new in my life and what I have been doing.

Some people go to a cemetery, kneel down in front of a marker, and pray and think about their loved one. Some even run a finger along the name etched in the marble, feeling a connection to the loved one now gone.

I have no stone marker for either of my parents. My mother was buried at sea, over a quarter of a century ago. And so, I come to the sea, I walk along the beach, and I think about them. Their names are etched forever in my heart, and I feel their presence, as surely as I feel the sand between my toes.

As I walked along, I watched all the people on the beach and wading in the water. It occurred to me that I was looking at a synopsis of my life. At one time or another, I have been most of the people I saw on the beach. I have been a toddler, taking my first, tentative steps into the cold and foamy water. I have been the small child, helping my daddy build a sand castle. The teenager, running along the beach with my friends.

The young mommy, keeping a watchful eye on my little ones while I tried to keep sand off the blanket and out of the sandwiches. I have walked the beach, hand-in-hand with a loved one, lost in our own private conversation. I have thrown a stick for my dog to fetch, and hugged her tight when she brought it back. I have spent my time looking down, looking for seashells and other treasures from the sea.

I only saw one person that I have not been. Yet. She was probably in her eighties. Dressed comfortably and conservatively, in browns and grays, and wearing a floppy hat, she walked briskly down the beach. She smiled at me as she passed and her face was aglow with deeply embedded smile lines.

I plan to still be walking on the beach when I am in my eighties. I will still be watching all the people on the beach, and thinking about my parents, and talking to my daddy. And when you walk by?

I will have a smile for you!