El Niño is pounding the California coast with rain and wind. During a lull in the weather, we go down to the beach in search of waves. We are not alone. Surfers, spectators and sea birds are all out for the show. We stand on the bank above the rocky beach blinking at the setting sun across a golden beach. As brave souls paddle out on surf boards to meet the onslaught of water rising before them like walls, we watch as they slip over the top of each wave to momentarily disappear into the trough beyond our vision. Shortly, they reappear to begin their struggle again.
Oblivious to the roaring water the surfers are battling, sea birds scuttle along the edge of each sheet of water that rises and recedes along their sandy, buffet table into which they thrust their probing beaks. Life here unfolds as it has for eons, and with that recognition comes a serene sense of security.
Below me, at the edge of the bank, extending out to the smooth golden sand are round rocks of every size and color making up the gray, rose, cream and black spectrum. Pounded by the waves, they have been formed into their smooth shapes, and I long to clamber down the bank to collect a few. Their presence in my possessions would yield a comforting connection to the sea I crave, whenever I find myself separated from it. But I restrain my gathering urges. There is no room in my mobile RV home for them. A picture will have to do.
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