Swimming After Sunset - Friday 9/14/2007

Tomasina's great-niece's hand and foot. This is the kind of skin the fancy potion makers would like me to believe they can deliver.



Tomasina, from my writing group, invited me to attend the memorial for her father. I couldn't be more grateful for being able to participate. I took off work early and drove down to Salt Creek Beach in Dana Point. It was an amazing afternoon.


I was privileged to meet Ed a few years ago, along with the rest of my writing group. In spite of his Alzheimer's he was a sweet man who interacted with his daughter with great tenderness. Yesterday afternoon, there were wonderful stories of Ed's life as a dive instructor, boater, party-host, thinker, writer and friend.

Then Ed's ashes, mixed with the ashes of his wife Virginia, were sent up into the sky in a helium balloon! It was an amazing and satisfying send off. We watched the balloon rise into the sky until it disappeared.


On it's way.


Sunset at Salt Creek Beach.



After sunset, Tomasina, her nephew, a family friend and I went in for the first annual Ed T. memorial swim. It was soooo cold! We all dove into a few waves.

I tried to body surf one, and was reminded about the ocean. It doesn't care if you're in it's way. I stayed on top for a bit, then was tumbled and pummeled and felt like just keeping my chin off the floor was a pretty good accomplishment. Sand in the ears, nose and mouth.

It was one of the most invigorating things I've experienced in a long time. We showered off the salt and I took off for the long drive home (oh my god, 2 1/2 hours for about 100 miles).

My little lone adventure came when I missed the turnoff to Crown Valley Parkway and ended up taking the Pacific Coast Highway right through the town of Laguna Beach. Remembered vaguely from a couple of years ago that the 133 should take me in the correct direction, but then zipped past the turn onto El Toro Road.

It took me about 5 miles to find a place to turn around. All I had on was my wet bathing suit and a long shirt. I ran around to the trunk of the car to get my pants and pull them on--I was going to have to stop and get gasoline before getting home--in this dark and creepy spot between the north and south going lanes. Thinking that the last two phone calls on my cell were to my mother and husband, wondering what they'd remember of my last words. Really, it was all too horror-movie stupid.

But I got back on track, and listened to various NPR stations play amazing music and regained some of the sense that I had upon walking up the green slope away from the water and toward my car. That I love my life, and my friends, and the wide vibrant world we've been given to explore.

I am grateful.