22 Minutes

This is probably the only place on earth when I wish every morning was Monday.  That would mean we had our entire vacation week ahead of us.  On Monday morning, I was elated that my entire beach experience was still before me.  On Tuesday morning, I skipped my morning walk and at 8:00 a.m., went straight down to the beach, coffee cup in hand.  Jack soon joined me and we lolled around on the beach until after 1 when we finally needed a lunchtime refresher.  We read poolside then until 3:30 when we decided it was time to shower and locate some dinner.  

That's what I love about vacation.  The ability to be totally spontaenous.  I don't get that luxury too often in my 'real' life.

Contrary to our normal OCD planning, we just started walking the beach uncertain of what would happen.  We walked over four miles and found ourselves standing in front of one of the few commercialized restaurants on the island.  We walked right by.  Thinking we were just going to have ice cream for dinner, we stumbled across a teeny little restaurant we had never noticed before: "Sign of the Mermaid."  I quickly checked out the menu, started salivating, and ushered Jack inside.  We sat at one of the restaurant's eight tables, ooohing and aaahing our way through several appetizers of sashimi grade seared tuna, huge sea scallops, steaming grouper enveloped in puff pastry (with a creamy crab sauce), and lump crab cakes.  It was probably a good thing that we had a two-mile walk back home so we could burn off .03% of the total calories injested.

****************

This morning, I awoke before sunrise and yet again wishing it was Monday morning (!), I grabbed my sunglasses and hit the beach.  I actually sat still on the sand for 22 minutes (yes, I timed myself) and just tried to be - while the sun came up behind me.  I focused on my breathing and when I was tempted to start worrying about something (work!  my dad!  the melting of the polar ice caps!), I gently pulled my attention back to the lapping waves on the empty beach.  It was a short time to truly still myself but for me, constituted a fabulous achievement.

It's only when I walk the beach do I discover hidden schizo tendencies in my personality.  After my 22 minutes was up, I couldn't take it anymore and started walking the beach.  The funniest thoughts go through my head when I'm beach-walking....

"How come there aren't more people out?  C'mon, guys, you can sleep when you're dead!"

"Hey, this is my stretch of empty beach.  Quit ruining my view."

"The sand is so calming and wonderful!  Why is everyone wearing shoes?"

"Ouch! [small explicative after she steps on sharp shell], why didn't I grab my running shoes?"

"I'm going to relax, breathe, and focus my brain."

"Wow, that shell looks like a nose!  Or maybe a dinosaur [turns head sideways to check]"

"Even thought we're on vacay, I'm going to eat healthy today and make better food choices."

"Is that bacon I smell?"

It goes on and on.  I'm only glad I'm not narrating these types of mental exclamations because I'd surely end up on some nutty reality TV show with ex-con's and people who dress up their animals to look like people.  And in the end, I guess it doesn't matter because this morning, despite my chattering walk, I sat still and breathed for 22 minutes.