It is dark as I climb on my bicycle and peddle to the Breakfast Club. The air is still and salt seems suspended as a blanket over the island. Early morning walkers and runners make their way and in the darkness no one speaks. It is 79 degrees and the entire Milky Way is putting on a show for free.
Stumbling in the door marked “Exit Only” the place is alive with activity as Jodee oversees the prep work and prepares for another day of customers. I pour myself a cup of coffee and quietly sip it. A Beach Day has begun.
Leaving the Club I ride down Tybrisa Street with an eye on the rising sun bubbling out of the sea. Red and orange and yellow streaks shoot out in all directions. The sea is flat and calm as though still asleep.
Down front in the big parking lot, I ride to 19th Street and my bike takes me on the beach. The sand is packed near the water and I ride it back to 12th Street. It is hard not to smile as there are not many better ways to start a day. Perhaps sharing it with the one you love.
Perhaps.
Back home, I do the things that I need to do but by 11:00 I’m back on the beach with a cooler, beach chair and I-Pod blowing Jim Morris music in my ears. There is a breeze now though the humidity is low and the temperature is in the 80s. It is a St. Martin kind of day on Tybee. People are on the beach but everyone has plenty of space.
Around noon, my feet are in the surf as I make my way towards the pier where round one of the Bored meeting commenced an hour ago. It is just Johnny O and me today and we chat as we mostly look at the expansive view of the beach from one end almost all of the way to the other. We would likely talk more but the beauty of the day at the beach sucks the air out of the sky so we mostly stare at the beauty of it all.
He leaves and I make my way to Fannie’s for round two of the Bored meeting. Fried flounder for lunch with an ice cold beer seems the perfect lunch for a day like today. My friends show up and we make jokes and laugh. Dave has brought me fresh peppers that he has made and instructs me to place them in my cooler.
My feet return to the surf and I return to my beach chair. The Beach Boys harmonize in my ears. I watch girls in bikinis walk by.
A couple of hours later, I snap out of the trance that I’ve been in, regaining my focus after the blurry eyes that being lost in thought staring at the ocean can bring.
I make my way home.
Hoping on my bike, I return down front and stumble in Spankey’s with its ocean view scenery and order a cheese burger. Dave and Sandy stumble in behind me and we laugh and joke our way through dinner.
Afterwards I am summoned back to the beach on 12th Street and sit in the swing there. Darkness descends. My senses are alive and on fire as the moon glows brightly on the sea. In the distance are couples who are holding hands, kissing, or using such a romantic backdrop to consummate their love. Who can blame any of them for doing any of it?
Then I make my way back home in the dark and the Milky Way has returned with a show for free.
“Thank you God,” I whisper out loud, “for one hell of a day.”
