A Little Beach Musing


Goodness, it's been hot! Thankfully, I'm going to "the big beach" in Narragansett tomorrow to bask in those wonderful salty breezes.

I've been putting off this excursion for far too long. "I've got too many things to do," I'd say, mentally calculating my excuses. "Besides, there's a beach down the street that's cute and rarely crowded. And it's closer."

Still, my heart longs for the bigger beach. Even though there will be massive crowds, the waves are epic in Narragansett. (Call me a romantic but I crave the pounding of the surf.) And I know it will be worth the twenty-minute drive because I always manage to get tons of writing done when I'm there. 

My favorite spot is the observation deck. It's cool, covered, and where I wrote the entire script for my Joywriting with the Dolphins teleseminar.

Once I watched a little girl playing in the waves.  She had a long, brunette braid and wore a hot pink and black wetsuit, screaming in delight as the waves teased and tickled her feet.

Each time a foamy white cap approached her, she’d jump, squeal, and bob up and down on her toes until the next wave appeared.  

Sometimes she’d stand backwards with her arms outstretched, trying to anticipate when the next wave would come.  Of course, it always would and it delighted her, even if it knocked her down. 

But the little girl was like a buoy—she’d always bounce right back up into position. I watched as she grew more confident and walked into the ocean until her chest was covered in green, seaweed-filled water.



And then something to the far right of the girl caught my eye.  Just past Point Judith Lighthouse was a line of fins. Were they sharks?      

The night before I had heard a television news reporter talking about a shark sighting in the same vicinity. I watched as the fins moved closer and closer to the little girl, who was now floating on her back towards the horizon.

Omg! My heart was thumping and I dropped my pen as the fins quickly surrounded the girl.  Did the lifeguards see what was happening?  Could they save her?      

I held my breath, too frightened to scream.  Was I watching a tragedy?  Should I leave the two-story observation deck and try to get the attention of somebody—anybody—who could rescue her from these man-eating sharks?

And then I saw the body of one of the fins emerge from the water and jump high into the air.  These were no sharks—they were dolphins!

I watched in awe as a pod of twelve bottle-nosed dolphins encircled the child and their powerful, vibrational energy lifted her higher and higher above the water.  They tossed the giggling girl from dolphin nose to dolphin nose, as if she was nothing but a plastic beach ball.

Amazing, right?  Yes.  And that last part—everything with the dolphins—none of it happened.  Not one bit of it!

The truth is I allowed my imagination to run wild. It's what writers do. So I guess you could say I lied a little.  I fibbed.  I exaggerated.  But isn’t that what fiction is?  A bending of the truth to make it more entertaining to the readers? 

I am a writer. And I really am going to the beach tomorrow, unless there's a thunderstorm or I get an important phone call or I twist my ankle or I have to clean the oven or change the cat litter. Yes, really!



(Photo courtesy: TripAdvisor)

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