Beach Notes

Grateful for a short getaway with Dan, which he planned. Timeless messages in a bottle I was able to discern through the cloudy, etched glass of my life view:

• Hurricanes cut a fearless, take-no-prisoners path. Erin closed the beaches yesterday (there was no sandy part to sit on, and the tides were menacing) and flooded the main roads pretty bad. Dan's cap was about to blow off. And today at Island Beach State Park, we were told we could only wade up to our ankles.
• Lifeguards are golden. Saviors in red trunks or one-pieces jogged along the surf, toting weights. Then two went in and rode the giant swells, one on a yellow board that said RESCUE and one in a little boat. The waves were so big, it looked like the vessels could capsize. But they did not, with skillful guards in charge.
• Beach sleep is the best sleep. I fell into a deep one but then Erin waves washed up over my bag, my books etc. Fortunately, Dan appeared at that instant and I woke up with a jolt. 
• New Jersey's barrier island is (kind of) like Cape Cod. Some of the same flora, from beach roses to marsh grass. But little flies bit big here in the swaying grass. The old visitor center had Cape-like treasures, including finds from shipwrecks, stuffed birds and a fox.  
• Surfside menus lean toward unexciting and unhealthy. You'll find sushi (good), subs, seafood, some nice iced coffee if you search, ice cream, sweet cocktails with colorful sunset names, chicken fingers, burgers, fried appetizers. I had a fresh Garden State house salad with crisp cucumbers and peppers by the sea.
• Ocean air smells good.
• Saltwater taffy is still a seaside thing.
• Sunset by the beach is a painting. Pinks, purples, oranges.
• Some lawn signs have great messages. IF YOU'RE LUCKY ENOUGH TO BE A THE BEACH, YOU'RE LUCKY ENOUGH, one said. Another had a silhouette of a mermaid and said MERMAID X-ING, which made me think of our daughters.

Good night.