Tuesday, October 4, 2011


The trip down was as smooth and easy as a top grade tequila.  Why not?  We sat staring out into a span of ocean as blue and clear as the sky itself.  Our rides were comfortable, companies easy and our hearts open to possibilities of the week.

Rosarito was overcast that day. A band of clouds hang at the far edge of the sea where it met the sky like frost that crawled up the bottoms of car windows overnight, smudging your view.  I wanted to wipe it clean, so I could see the line where everything on earth seems to fall off, into perhaps what should be called a better place, though I would have no way of knowing.

The water seemed more turbulent and the waves more fierce here south of the border.  Were the waves rising as a protest against the housing projects and pellet board houses falling to the wayside and scattered between high rise hotels?  Perhaps not.

The swells danced nonetheless, between the sun and the wind, beckoning the clouds lower and teasing the heels of low flying pelicans, who flirted at the edge of the swells spraying like hair into the wind and rhythms of the dance.

As we stopped, unloaded and walked out onto the hotel garden standing at the edge of the ocean, waves splashed onto rocks beneath, making white fireworks of water exploding on impact.  I let go of my bags along with my thoughts.  Looking out into the mists blurring the edges between heaven and earth, I felt myself hanging at the edges of today and tomorrow, my hands and soul shook in symphony with the splashing rocks.

*  *   *

The group had danced the night away. Music banged on my wall, with chatters jumping in offbeat like broken staccatos.  Aged looking terracotta floors and delicate mosaics on the wall carried the sound well, so I could hear shot glasses slam on the wooden tables and bar chairs being dragged across the floor.  As consciousness returned and dreams faded away, whispers between those still standing traveled through the short hallway between my room and the bar, taunting me with secrets I couldn't quite decipher ceaselessly.

The clock struck at four.

I waited, read and prayed but sleep eluded me.  At the first ray of sun kissing the sky fish belly white, I got up to take a walk outside, bathing in the brisk coolness of morning fresh air.  I walked the grounds from one side to another, then back again, looking for what I wasn't sure.

The ocean was angry.  Gray clouds had taken over as far as I could see, smudged view a new reality erasing memories of blues and gold.  Pelicans lingered, mourning what they still felt was home but buried now, under turmoils of churning foams and breaks without directions.

I decided to return to my room.  That was when I spotted him, crouching between the smallness of a patio chair and table.  His red baseball cap lit up the gray horizon, like the tip of a match, darting only slightly but a presence of warmth nonetheless.  As I walked closer, I saw that he was indeed lighting up something - a cigarette. 

I didn't recognize the tall, lanky figure, even when he waved.  He had told me something earlier, something that took me aback but I waved it away as a inconsequential comment. I was just under the hotel windows and he at the edge of the water, enjoying a morning smoke.  I waved back but walked away, again, thinking he were just another early rising hotel guest enjoying a moment's solitude in the mists.  I wished I had known it was him, but it wasn't to be.  Perhaps I had been out wondering needing someone to talk to, perhaps he was too.  But it wasn't to be.

Later on he was to say goodbye, a shocking surprise, a pause, an earlier exit that expected, due to a move, a change, or a job we weren't sure.  But his earlier comment made sense in the light of the departure, giving context to a gray stroke of smoke dissipating into the wind otherwise.  Was it a clue written in disappearing ink?  Or was it just an air of swirling puff meant to be dismissed?  Regardless it was a sad occasion and he would be missed.  We all wish(ed) that there were time and a chance to know him better, but it wasn't to be.

I couldn't help wondering if we could have talked that morning, I would have found out a bit more.  I could not change what was meant to change, but I still couldn't help wondering, what was it to be.


  1. Lovely the way you've matched the seascape to the mood of the piece. I also really like the way you've explored the theme of transience here.

  2. Felt like I was walking next to you by the ocean. Beautiful writing.

  3. Absolutely beautiful. I really empathize with your feeling of loss and wondering of "what-if?" Nothing haunts me quite like acquaintances I never got to know better.

    I went to the ocean, recently, which made me doubly appreciate your description of it. I want to go back now!

  4. Ah what if? I really liked this.

  5. Hello.
    My first time here from dVerse Poets Pub.

    A haunting & vivid write.
    Very nicely done!

    Thanks for sharing.

    The Last Kiss

  6. We all crave connection with others and yet we tend to shy away from the opportunities that arise...and then we are left only with our own speculations.

    That was beautifully written and creatively expressed, as always.

  7. For me, nothing represents the what if better than the sea and her ways, the ebb and flow of the tide, the timing. Your write has captured all of that for me here...well done!

  8. so many missed possibilities...tides come in tides go out...if meant to be they will happen...but still we ask what if....

  9. This comment has been removed by the author.

  10. lovely wonders on missed event.

  11. As usual, you paint a picture in my mind. Good work!

  12. I just started blogging and saw yours. This post is both haunting and riveting. Been wondering on the "what ifs" as well and this one just easily connected.

  13. I absolutely fell in love with your vivid use of description! Keep up the nice work!

  14. "A band of clouds hang at the far edge of the sea where it met the sky like frost that crawled up the bottoms of car windows overnight, smudging your view. I wanted to wipe it clean, so I could see the line where everything on earth seems to fall off, into perhaps what should be called a better place, though I would have no way of knowing."

    Shopgirl, your voice has become so unique that I would know your writing even if it were posted somewhere other than A Blessing a Day.

    This was a feast. Thank you. :)

    And "what ifs" are a surefire way to raise the blood pressure. Just know it is as it should be. (Says the neurotic Suburban Soliloquist.)

  15. Sophisticated use of description, amazing, keep it up.

    *I need some followers... Have none.

  16. Wow. I have been away again and I always enjoy visiting the blogs I love. Your posts never disappoint me. Lovely!

  17. Lovely! Your blog is inspiring for newbies like me. I will appreciate it very much if you can share me your idea of how to write a beautiful blog like yours.

  18. You have a way with words. I fancy myself a writer, and I've always found describing places and things fairly difficult to do. You make it seem so effortless.

    Fickle Cattle




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