His pupils were enlarged despite the growing light in his direction. The colors of the sky were more vivd than ever. Turning his face down toward the horizon, there were dozens of happy humans. Frolicking in the surf and on the shore, they smiled and drank and ate and swam. Under the direction of summertime.
Breeze developed. Noises buzzed around him. Louder. Louder. Just behind him, a white pick-up truck, its passengers motioning their arms to direct him to the side of their path. Drum and bass permeated his immediate atmosphere, and off they went. As the music faded, so did his interest in his current location. Onward to the shoreline.
Another set. Out to the beach. Another bump. Submerge again. Another set. Another set. Out to the beach. Sandwich. Beer. Life seemed so simple in that moment. Now. Recalling that memory, it was perfect. But then, it was everything. There was nothing else. There was no home. No destination. No timeline. Only the next interaction.The next sensation. The next wave, the next sustenance.
The most simple moments are his favorite ones. When ten minutes is the cycle of immediate action, of life. They can seem so elusive when, in "normal" life, plans are made by increments of 48 hours or 14 days. Now, that the pace of life has been upturned for many by the pandemic, it is crucial to remember this moment. Not the last one, but THIS one. It's all we have. I hope yours is in a beautiful place.
- 7Ply Epic