Sunday, September 8, 2013

By The Scent of The Sea

8 o' clock in the evening on Edgewater Drive in Dunedin, Florida is simply a great place to find oneself. Plain and simple. He new this. He new it well. It is of course where he even found himself tonight. Like he often did. Amongst the purity of Florida atmosphere.

It was only a short walk along the grassy pathway, the sidewalk that ran itself alongside the sea. And on the other side of him, was the vast body of water that made up so much of why his town was so attractive in the first place. And on the other side, in turn, of that body of water, was Clearwater. The beaches. The Buildings. That lifestyle celebrated and known a nation over.

Bike riders and dog walkers and various denizens of the town were also their with him. They were there to share and bask in the wonderful experience the waterside was there to offer them. He eventually made his way down the path to the benches across from Edgewater Drive and Beltrees Avenue. That was his spot. His place. The feeling of serenity and energy that he couldn't exactly explain to anyone that. . . That called to him.

It beckoned to him with a tantalizing and mysterious nature. 

So he happily obliged that spot where two black benches sat in between lush green grass, giant bush and foliage and wonderfully tall, skinny palm trees. It was there that the night began to be born yet again. Minute after minute after second--it became more and more visible in the sky. But maybe it had help tonight. Maybe the small, light scent of the rain storm was goading it along, tempting it to change faster. To be born quicker tonight. 

For it was the scent of the sea that drew him their, but now, he understood, the smell of the storm was what kept him tonight. 

And then the lightning came. 

It presented itself as an operatic show of light and sound and spirit. It danced and tapped and spun. Singing it's deep and bass-filled songs of power and vitality. It was a most beautiful sight to behold in deed. 

He found his feet after a few moments of the show taking him closer. . . Closer to the water. Closer to the flashes of white electric. He found himself on the rocks down by the water. It was there by the sea and waves and rocks that he felt at ease. Finally. . .  at peace. There was no one. There was nothing. No hurt could grab hold of him and hold him dearly. No pain could grasp his soul and dig it's way inside, burrowing in deeply.

The salt coming off the blue and white caps held in him in it's protection. The wind rolling off the water bound him in a spell of sanctity. He was taken care of. There, he was taken care of. And he was grateful for it. For it was the land and water and the palms and green, green grass and the atmosphere people killed for. Died for. Lived for. A gentleman walking past on the sidewalk must have noticed him standing on the rocks, brooding and thinking and feeling. He called out and asked, 'Beautiful isn't it?"

He answered to the water, "You ain't kiddin'. . ."

As the wind blew over the cool blue waves and reached his skin he watched as the day shift clocked out, and the stars began to wake up. The lightning had subsided and the storm looked as though it had concluded it's dancing and singing over the city on the other side. Things were calm now on the water. Life was at peace there by the sea. He grinned a bit running his fingers through his hair. And the grin was supplied by not only satisfaction, but also from gratefulness. Grateful and appreciative for being in such a place of rich beauty and effervescent oceanic bliss. This was a prime spot. A choice location. 

Minutes later, back at the bench, he was putting his jacket back on. He got one arm in and then watched across the vast body of water as Clearwater was struck by yet again, massive lightning.

Two. Enormous. Bolts.

In that moment the dark blues and emerging purples of the night were all cast aside for the brilliant white aura of light. The massive energy strikes threw and pushed themselves throughout the sky. A showcase of the two mutli-striking bolts of electric magnificence.

The storm had decided to step in time yet again. It still had some moves left. Some dancing to be done. So of course, he smiled.

He dropped down his jacket and decided to hold it on the way back. 

Then he left the seaside behind, and leisurely walked back to his car. 

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