She pulled on a “hoodie” and grabbed the car keys. The dog was already way ahead of her and stood, tail wagging playfully, by the car waiting to be let in. As they set off she had every intention of going to the old castle ruins just outside town. It was approaching dinner time after all and soon the light would begin to fade. Yet all intentions despite, she found herself pulling the car right instead of left and the town gave way to open fields. Apparently, she was headed for the beach.
It was deserted.
And yet full of life. The first day of spring saw seagulls patrolling the sand in the late afternoon sun. They cried out discontented at having to inconvenience themselves to move when the dog approached but could have saved themselves the trouble… it paid them no attention. Instead every stick was sniffed, gnawed on and chewed to bits if at all possible. Without getting wet paws, of course. She chuckled to herself, and felt good about being there. Much better than she had anticipated.
The tide was going out, leaving an intricately rippled pattern for her to walk on by the water's edge. Rays of sunshine reflected off the remaining puddles. Here and there sticks of bamboo lay, oddly littering the sand between shells and dried sea weed. The recent floodings must have washed away part of someone's garden and sent the bamboo out to sea. Rather impressive considering that their root net is often so entangled and strong that no ordinary gardening tool can remove them. She pondered that for a while… appreciating the casual display of force, which had left its fallen victims stranded on this beach. It made her smile to think that even the most stubborn and ingrown fixture could be loosened and led away. It felt like… hope. Like spring.
As they walked back she watched the waves crest and struggle where the water was turning shallow. Soon a tiny make-shift island would breech the surface and offer itself to be conquered, if only temporarily, from the water. Virgin soil, so to speak. She smiled at that too and felt grateful for little victories. Sometimes, it wasn't necesarry to actually take possession of something to keep hold of it. Sometimes, it was enough to know that it was there… enough to know that things come and go, and in the process get destroyed and remade endlessly.
That too felt like hope. Like spring….