I don't want to leave, but I am thoroughly chilled now, even with the blanket wrapped around me. It’s odd how I would have been warm enough, comfortable enough, in the same temperature back east (inland Midwest). But, here, on the coast, it seems colder. Perhaps the moisture from the ocean adds to the sense of the coldness. Or maybe it is just because I am by myself, and feeling a little bit lonesome. I gather my belongings and head for the car. Still, there is time on the meter. I want to sit here in my car, warm up and watch people passing by.Many couples saunter arm in arm. Young and old, fat and thin. Some walk their doggies on leash. A young woman about fifteen comes by with her white Standard Poodle proudly prancing at her side. Such a spirited animal! She plunks down on my previously occupied bench to watch the waves and invites her furry buddy to join her. I am envious as she leans against him to borrow his cuddly warmth. They sit there a while like lovers with their shadowed heads together in the last remnants of twilight.
I've heard that the rhythm of the ocean changes on every seventh wave. They say that every so often there is a wave that seems bigger, more spectacular, than those preceding it. I don't keep count. I am watching too many other things. But it must be Mother Nature’s way of announcing the fabled seventh wave, as the sea grabs my attention enough to draw me away from all the other distractions around me, as though it has said, "Hey! Pay attention here! Yes. Here! You can't miss this one glorious wave. At least, watch this one." And I marvel.
Suddenly many people pass by now obscuring my view. The movies have just let out. I'm cold and go home.
