| Thinking of Rockaway by Laura Jameison She used to sit for hours on the four foot high, flat topped boulder, staring at the ocean, listening to the waves hit the shore, sometimes gently lapping, other times clamoring and crashing. She used to sit and stare at the blue sky, and think about surviving. Occasionally, a sea otter would appear, laying on its back, clicking away at an abalone. A group of seagulls landed in front of her, squawking and pushing each other around for some scrap of food on the shore. When the tide was out, she was surrounded tide pools formed of lava-like rocks and shelves. At these times, jumping down from the boulder, she would explore the rocks looking at baby sand-dollars one quarter of a inch across and baby abalone shells only slightly bigger. The stars dotted the rocky shore, and the sea-flowers spread their petals, mostly purple and rosy pink. Sometimes, feeling free, she ran along the wave's edge, her bare feet delightfully smacking the ocean water, and a song in her heart - always returning to the boulder, sitting silently and contemplating. One day, after a storm, that boulder, that sanctuary of stone, was gone, buried by sand. |
