My Sometimes Shy, Wet Love

I awoke today to see another gray, black and white, wet world. Early morning rain eclipsed yet another weekend bike ride. So I ate and took my dog to the beach for a walk (for me) and a romp (for him). We went to First Street in Kill Devil Hills.

As I got out of my truck and let Kona go, I looked beyond him at her. She laid there waiting for me as always. Today though, she was shy, demur, and about as gray as the low cloud ceiling pressing down over our heads. The fog from earlier was lifting out now. No swell showed but a small shorebreak rattled into the thick, heavy sand my feet seemed to push deep into with each step. This was the Atlantic's quiet almost depressed manner as counterpoint to the many times she rages or glimmers with full swell and wild whitewater. How moody this massive personality. Few seem to desire her company when she's in this mood. I remain loyal still to this lifelong love no matter.

I turned southward away from a light north-northeast wind and spotted something drifting about 200 yards off the beach. I stared at it through the tiny rain droplets spattering on my glasses' lenses. It appeared a head rolled over from the dark form floating along in the small swell. I looked back at the condo balconies behind me. A group peered out and pointed to the dark shape as I was, transfixed.

Funny how your mind takes off when you catch sight of something unidentifiable floating in the ocean. Was it a survivor from some lost vessel? Was it a bale of "da kine"? Many have been found on this coast in years past when trawl boats feared the law was closing in on them and their whole illegal cargo would be jettisoned at sea. In fact one local business was seeded with dollars from such a find years ago, or so it's said among those of us who were here in 1976.

So we watched our mysterious floating flotsam. We each wrote our own tale of ocean mishap. As I trudged southward I noticed I was walking about the same speed it drifted, and that it was slowly edging closer to the beach. The farther I walked, the closer it moved until finally I could make out about a dozen round shapes seemingly bound together in drift. Another head turned. I strained my eyes. I felt for my cell phone.

When it reached the shorebreak lineup I could identify it. It was about 12 black and white balloons...yeah balloons. Just what sea life need huh? My dog loved it though. As the next waves lifted and then dumped them in the wash, he lunged at them repeatedly and was quite vocal. They broke apart mostly coming ashore and scattering low across the sand. So we chased them down and captured as many as we could. I popped them. We turned back toward our beach access triumphant with our trashed trophy. No throngs, no sun, no swell, cold water, yet a fine morning nonetheless.