We raised our heads from pillows deep, as the nap’s softness tumbled from our eyes. Stretching arms and legs full of feeling, the sun beckoning us to come outside with tendrils creeping through the blinds.
Always ready for an adventure we took the dog for a walk. We were after all along the shoreline of a great lake we could hear, crashing reverberations evident, but not glimpsed in wide-eyed wonder. Setting off, we put our sun-kissed faces to the wind and chased down what was to come.
A wall in full decay caught our attention and over we trod, quiet as not to scare the story away. My fingers alighted on the flaked surface, a bit of red painting its way across my finger’s surface. Age had crept into its warped bones, paint had abandoned it to be marred by weather’s will, and this is what remained as testament to what had once proudly stood.
putting my eyes up to the bars, with hushed breathe I sought a loose word or phrase lingering out past the barrier, something that might let me glimpse those moments long gone. But the grass kept what it knew to itself, and the flowers were bullied into same submission. Their beauty betrayed their surroundings. My fingers touched the rough, felt the salt in the air and felt a bit of the sandy blast. Time, wind, water and salt had fingered these metal piles and driven them to distraction in an all out war. The metal strove to defend what it had been placed to guard, and yet these willowy fingers had grasped cold and hard, every year growing more fierce, until surrender seemed the only way.
and so in allowing the elements to take over there was some type of preservation. The grass grew up lush in the cracks and crevices of what used to be a patio. Duck splashed gleefully in the puddles that made their home in the bottom of a deep canyon, the pool-abyss. And here the iron remnants continued to stand guard, to be shaped by the turmoil of life lived harbour side and time honed.
I crane my neck for another glimpse taking it all in. I strain my ears to hear more than the crashing waves, perhaps laughter of times past, or even the calling out of friends headed home-word…but the silence deafens and I”m left imagining what was. Walking back to the hotel room, I turn once again at the door. My feet are moist from dew-drops trod through as we adventured leeward, but this image of strength and decay, juxtaposed in my mind.