One moment in time
On Sunday, as we loaded the car boot with grocery, on impulse, I asked A to drive me to the beach. Saturday had been a grey overcast day. With A away on call, I had parked myself in front of the TV all day and well into the night. Roman Polanski's The Pianist was playing on one of the channels. Knowing very well that I would curse myself for it (like I did after watching Schindler's List and reading Sophie's Choice) I sat and watched the pianist's experience of the holocaust in Poland, right through to the unbearably ironic ending.
So after a sleepless night, I decided I needed to get out of the house. Llanelli (pronounced khlanekhli) has a very long shoreline, which the local council has been developing for a year now. I haven't visited it for a while. Standing there in the carpark of Tesco, getting ready for a ride back home, I looked up. The Sun, on its descent, had washed the sky a pale yellow. And suddenly, I desperately needed the light, the fresh air, the peace...
We drove down the coastal road lined with mounds of green shrub and clumps of purple heather. Down past the new golf course, the new estate, drinking in glimpses of pale blue through the breaks in the green. Then it was on us. The new glass and chrome sail shaped cafeteria. The very full car park. Families on their day out. The eye blanked out these minor details and consumed the sand, water, sun and sky. For only a moment, though, as it was a cold day and neither of us was dressed for a stroll. So we turned around and made our way back. But it was too little and I craved more. We turned into the estate and before the new houses started, parked by the banks.
And there it was--a little piece of heaven. Green and purple falling away to yellow, and the blue-brown zebra stripes of the sky on water and the sea-bed at low tide. Far away across the bay the darker shoreline of the Gower snaked through the haze. Sea gulls wheeled and wailed. The Sun sank ever so slowly. The radio played Georgia on my mind. Then briefly an old man wearing a cap strolled through my line of vision clutching his fishing rod. I held my breath; held on to this crystal-drop of perfection. And waited for the peace...
So after a sleepless night, I decided I needed to get out of the house. Llanelli (pronounced khlanekhli) has a very long shoreline, which the local council has been developing for a year now. I haven't visited it for a while. Standing there in the carpark of Tesco, getting ready for a ride back home, I looked up. The Sun, on its descent, had washed the sky a pale yellow. And suddenly, I desperately needed the light, the fresh air, the peace...
We drove down the coastal road lined with mounds of green shrub and clumps of purple heather. Down past the new golf course, the new estate, drinking in glimpses of pale blue through the breaks in the green. Then it was on us. The new glass and chrome sail shaped cafeteria. The very full car park. Families on their day out. The eye blanked out these minor details and consumed the sand, water, sun and sky. For only a moment, though, as it was a cold day and neither of us was dressed for a stroll. So we turned around and made our way back. But it was too little and I craved more. We turned into the estate and before the new houses started, parked by the banks.
And there it was--a little piece of heaven. Green and purple falling away to yellow, and the blue-brown zebra stripes of the sky on water and the sea-bed at low tide. Far away across the bay the darker shoreline of the Gower snaked through the haze. Sea gulls wheeled and wailed. The Sun sank ever so slowly. The radio played Georgia on my mind. Then briefly an old man wearing a cap strolled through my line of vision clutching his fishing rod. I held my breath; held on to this crystal-drop of perfection. And waited for the peace...
posted by Sabiha | 4:58 PM
2 Comments:
sounds like a perfect life sabs!
Not that you need an excuse, Rums, but you should come visit.
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