Memories and Fantasies

Walking by the Elk grazing in the northern California Elk Preserve on Highway 101, the sounds of the cars and the people in the parking lot no longer worthy of my attention. In front of me is the trail head. I enter the forest and find myself not knowing where to look next, the ferns as tall as my waist run off in each direction. And the redwoods huge; none the size of an average tree. They meet the path, or more accurately the path meanders through them.

Around me all is thick with life; I continue walking suspecting an Ewok from the Star Wars movie could be watching from the trees above me. Continuing forward, smelling the rich earth, eventually I hear the ocean and know I’ll soon see it.

As I leave the cocoon of trees, I enter a land of sand dunes and tall grasses. The path continues until I come over a rise and now can see and hear the noisy ocean, white with foam. Sand stretches our right and left and to the front aways more. Logs and driftwood litter the mounds of sand. The ocean somewhere out the meets the sky with no distinction of color change between them.

My feet dig in, walking through sand even on a path requires focus to remain in the most packed portion of the trail. As I head toward the shore, the sand thickens challenging my thighs but so worth it. As I near the water’s edge the sand firms up making my progress easier. Now I am free to take into my soul the refurbishing of my spirit, the mist on my skin, the salt in the air I am revived in a way that felt so timely. Walking, breathing, watching the waves roll in satisfying every want.

Once upon a time, probably in my 40’s, I rewrote my history, and instead of living in a small home in Arcata, a small town south of where I now stood, I created a story with a yellow home on stilts in the sand dunes overlooking the ocean. This is where I imagined my family lived, my two older sisters and my father and mother and me. We were happy and safe. My father still worked, and mom was a stay-at-home mom with such a big home and family to take care of.

This life I imagine included everyone, with aunts, uncles, cousins and grandparents alive and gathering for big family meals at the beach. Food spread on tables, a bonfire burning the whole time to warm ourselves. My young cousins and myself running in the shallow waves, cold but happy. (This is something we actually did to celebrate summer month holidays.) We did not go into the water further than the knees. The northern Pacific Ocean is cold with a dangerous undertow.

Walking through the redwoods, reaching the beach and my fantasy of a happy, safe childhood was a delicious fantasy: like savored memories of life well lived, family intact, without tragedy. Life vibrant, the scene beautiful.