It took about one full day before we found our footing again. Returning to a favored place after some time away is often slightly disconcerting. Things are never quite as one remembers them, in ways good and bad. Certain places felt smaller and less impressive, others revealed a beauty I never noticed before. One thing that remained as gorgeous and powerful as ever was the Marginal Way, and we took our time walking along its meandering seaside route.
I still remember the first time we made this journey, on our first vacation together almost twenty-two years ago. The same rocks, and many of the same trees, remain intact. Thinking of all the waves that had broken over this space since then felt dizzying, and ruminating about all those years was equally daunting, in a good way.
We’d seen this sea in all manners of moods: wild and thrashing about, calm and placidly gentle, violent and fiery, happy and sparkling, gray and somber, bright and invigorating – and always beautiful, always life-affirming. How something so changeable could simultaneously be so stalwart and stable remains an exquisite mystery to me.
We’ve changed too over these last two decades, and like the gnarled and tough junipers that formed a little protected cove in our favorite part of the trail, we’ve been worn down and aged in ways that reveal our travails and our worth.
We looked out into the Atlantic and watched a boat in the distance, wondering at the other souls on their own journeys…
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