Eggs and applesauce
I took Sammie to the beach. Many people take their children or dogs to the beach. I take my cat. She and I vacation together when we can. Some people consider their pets to be their children. Sammie is more like one of my middle-aged female friends. She and I think we’re good travel companions. We give each other plenty of space and like to check in periodically about how our day’s been going and when we do, we can’t stop talking.
On vacation, I like to sit outside in the morning and write. Sammie prefers to sit inside, behind a screen, where she can safely watch birds and ants. She is curious how the wind blows the long blades of grass in the planter.
I’ve been craving time at the beach all spring. It’s taken me until Memorial Day to get here. I’ve had too much of the city with its too many people. Too much noise. Too much cement. Too much steel and brick and glass. Too much music blaring and car alarms going and people excited about being around the too-much. I knew it had been too long since I’ve been away because I kept forgetting things as I was trying to leave. And when I remembered what I’d forgotten I kept dropping whatever it was I was trying to hold. I lost my patience at the garage when I got a text message that my Zipcar wasn’t there. The person on customer service help line told me that the next available car was in a location 20-minutes away.
“Unacceptable,” I stated firmly into my cell phone as the car pulled into the lot. The woman driving my Zipcar was returning it right on time. My hands shook when I finally opened the car door. The woman was long gone when I found her wallet inside the car. I hadn’t yet driven away so I gave it to the garage attendant and texted Zipcar hoping she’d get the message before freaking out.
I started to calm down after I crossed the George Washington Bridge. I felt myself relax when I took the Shore Points exit off the New Jersey Turnpike. I breathed a huge sigh of relief when I turned down 7th Avenue towards Bradley Beach. There, nestled between the white houses, was an Orange Creamsicle colored home with deep purple trim around the windows. The gutters were painted aqua. A Progress Pride flag flew out front. I knew I’d find my place for the next two days in the back of this house.
“I was going to paint the cottage the opposite color from the house,” the woman who ran the Airbnb told me.
We talked easily and could have talked all night long. We’re both in our fifties. She’s getting ready to stop working to be a full time coach. I just started working with a coach to see how I can do something I love full time. Her child goes to Sarah Lawrence College. I went to Sarah Lawrence College. Before our first conversation was over I’d suggested a house swap. Her beach home for my city apartment. She agreed.
I put my things in the cottage and set Sammie up with her litter box, water and nibbles. Then I walked to the beach. It was windy. The water was rough. It felt cold but people were out and dressed for summer. I was numb and happy so the wind and the cold didn’t matter. I walked along the boardwalk for a few miles.
On my way back I looked for a place to eat. I passed The Columns, a restaurant in a Victorian mansion with views of the ocean; a restaurant on the boardwalk; an Irish pub; a taco place; another taco place; a Thai place; a Columbia restaurant that offered pasta and meatballs and pizza. “What? No.” I decided instead of sitting down at a restaurant that I’d get a bottle of wine. I chose a Zaccagnini Pinot Grigio, a brand lovingly known as “stick wine,” and headed to the cottage.
As I walked up the driveway I saw Sammie sitting behind the blue shuttered window. I hadn’t noticed it was blue when I arrived. I was too focused on color of the big house. I heated up a phyllo dough potato pie I’d brought from home and poured a glass of wine. It was the perfect dinner. I was reenergized enough to get back in the car and head to Belmar Marina to watch the sunset. I thought about all the fancy ice cream shoppes along the way. I’d also found a Rita’s Italian Ice on Google but when I got to Belmar Marian I saw a Dairy Queen. I parked and walked across the street and got a vanilla soft serve ice cream in a flat bottom cake cone. It was simple and fake-tasting and perfect. I finished the cone as the sun set.
The next morning I woke to Sammie demanding breakfast. She and I had both slept through the night and now it was time to eat. I put out her food and made myself a breakfast of eggs and applesauce. I poured a cup of black coffee and sat outside and wrote.
I’m happiest with the simple things right now and plan on taking a bike ride this afternoon. Maybe I’ll have fish tacos for dinner.
Here’s to delicious moments!
Warmly,
Tiffany