Where the road ends, the beach begins, and we just keep on driving.
At Padre Island National Seashore, there are 63 miles of undisturbed
beaches, meaning for 63 miles, the sun, waves and sand dominate. No
condos rise, no shopping malls sprawl, no development disturbs the flow.
But, we see cars. And campers. And tents. And anglers. And dogs. And
lots of birds. We pass an oil tanker truck.
As we journey along the beach in our candy-apple red Saturn, we roll
through a surreal landscape nonchalantly, accepting our sojourn as
Waves crash just inches away. Dunes spill toward our tires. Flocks of
sea gulls play chicken with us.
We swerve to avoid beach walkers, careen past pylons, then head back
to where the rubber meets the road and reality returns.
On my blog five days ago, I mention "a fellow laundry washer" I met
in town and then yesterday, I mention one of my new friends who is
traveling to Africa in March.
Today, I learn they are one. And he's staying right next door. His
name is Jay.
Funny. Neither of us remember ever seeing each other's face. It is
Jay who connects the dots when our conversation cycles around to
funny signs in laundromats (i.e. Check inside machine for children),
which is the conversation we shared five days ago.
Ya gotta laugh.