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Mostly Water

If you are interested in taking Dr. James Kraus' course
on nature writing (an online course available to all) please feel free to e-mail him...

What is the mystery hidden in the salty water of the Natatorium? Are painful memories of those who died still present? Or are they lost just as the statues heads are missing upon the entries stone arch?

Boarded up windows hide the stories of the men who died. Its structure lies crumbling and dilapidated. Yet, water sparkles within and without it, speaking of tender memories which will never die.

A chain link fence surrounds the Natatorium as if putting up a barrier that links us to our past. And I wonder...has our knowledge of past events crumbled like this Natatorium? Should stories and facts of our nations history be preserved better? I think so, but this stone, sand and salt water link to the past, now lies closed and crumbling...



As I walk along the beach the sand is fine as silk beneath my bare feet. Yet, in a half mile or so the ground seems to turn into rough sandpaper as millions of tiny shells combine with the sand. Even further along the texture changes once again, this time to the softness of salt. But,this is not the only change in the sand at this point, because, when looked at carefully, the sand seems to have diamond shaped patterns etched into its semi-smooth face.
Perhaps "sandpaper" is really this pattern of sand that could be almost like one might find in "wallpaper." Yet, since there are no walls at the beach, the water lays down its chosen design of "sandpaper." *smile*
The feathery clouds, blushing in ethereal pink, are outlined in gold as the sun begins to rise. Suddenly, a spray of light vanquishes the misty gray of early morning--replacing it with powder blue sky. The water is not smooth and gentle, instead the wind and currents ruffle the sea, giving it dimples. Then as the waves begin to head for shore some disintegrate into nothing while others put forth one last effort and turn to liquid glass, just before they crash.



The sun cloaks me in warmth, encasing me in steady heat as I walk towards a watery shore. My bare feet are the first to meet the excited waves, which roll up to me, coaxing me to walk out beyond this sandy shoreline carpet. Then the water retreats to gather fresh strength as once again it tries to lull me. Its call finally draws me in and I am met by the cool caress of the water's soft, turquoise fabric. I submerge myself and water clings to me, covering me in a liquid gown, but my clear glass finery fades, rolling away as I rise.



Was I at a waterpark today? No, but it was so fun it could've been a water-park.

I went to the beach today with my older sister's best friend. We whisked through water chutes which sped us across the water as if we were sliding on snow. As the "ride" came to an end we felt ourselves slightly pulled down by the water, amid a frothing mass of bubbles, and then we were tossed ashore.

Laughing we'd stand up and race back for another ride.

At times we'd misjudge and be tumbled by the wave or not go anywhere.

In between our rides, which we raced to get, there were gentle ripples that made the water look like bumpy glass. Although, the glassy surface would sometimes be broken as a white fish would jump up and dive back into the water.

I think this fish wanted to join us, because we looked like we were having so muhc fun. *smiles*

However, I think he was playing instead of doing what his mother told him to, because after awhile we no longer saw "our" fish and we had to assume his mother had grounded him. *smiles*



Darkness is combed away as night is raked into piles of gray and white clouds. Soon the misty yard of pink clouds is covered in gold as the sun rises fresh from a night of sleep.
Beneath this well-kept yard of the sky lies a sea of untidiness whose waves crash here and there leaving piles of trash strewn everywhere.



The tiny grains of sand are soft as sifted flour. Little ripples gently wash my feet in water turned cloudy by the sand. Slowly I walk out, into soft waves of a frigid sea. Soon I am enveloped in misty green water and I easily let myself float and I wait...
At last a tiny bit of sun glimmers on the water as it tries to escape from behind a huge, gray cloud. I feel at peace and though my time is short I am rejuvenated.



The beach is so peaceful. I walk along looking out. I watch as the sea of glass shimmers silver and clear in the early morning light. Then slowly, as if a glassblower were heating the glass, the waves begin to curl. Then suddenly it curls too much, and just before it shatters, liquid strands of glass rise up as if from a shooting star.



All alone, far away from land there sits a lonely fisherman...Has he too come to this place to escape from the noise just a short walk away from this quiet shore? I do not know...but, I know that as I glance up and see dusky light beams peeking out from behind dulled cotton mounds of clouds I feel both peaceful and invigorated.
So, with my puppy at my side we race along the shore just enjoying the sounds and the quiet freedom...Until at last I feel ready to face the day once more.


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© May, 1998--Heather Dozier

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