My OperaTHE ESSENCE OF HOME (cont.)
Saturday, August 1, 2009 2:06:48 AM
The trip to the beach is another thing that occupies my mind intensely. Well, you could say that since this is my last trip to the place I call home before I will hardly see it again, I feel a sudden kind of importance in carefully memorizing it. The small hired van travels through the rather narrow road of the rural, taking us, my father, I and some other relatives, to the My Khe Beach, a famous beach in Quang Ngai. It is a lovely, agreeable weather afternoon and it is 4 then. Away from the relatively small town of Quang Ngai, we soon depart the brick, tall houses, the restaurants, the malls, the even road and enter a land of green paddle fields and lots of cows and running dogs and brick houses by side of leaf or wooden ones. There are many of my relatives who can't stand the car conditioner so we end up open all the side windows of the car. I sit next to a window and find myself greatly enjoy the breezes. I never know the afternoon breezes are so enjoyable, with their light touch on my face and slightly toss my hair. There are no more signs of the morning scorching heat.
We arrive at the beach after not quite a long trip, only around an hour drive or so. I must admit then that this is a very long, long time since the last time I stepped on the soft cream-like sand. I haven't been 'beach'ing for a few years. The truth is I couldn't believe myself a few years ago, surviving the boring summer without once going to a beach like we children annually do. It was not that I found myself no more children then. It was just an unheard of fear of the beach, with its many reasons and explanations that makes me end up a recluse from the beach. But today, I choose to leave that aside. Today, I decide to go to the beach.
I remember the times before my own separation from the beach. This place was not a summer heaven when you can feel the wind through your wet hair and exhausted body. Frankly, there were no wind, not even a breeze. Everything then stood still with time. Only us moving. Only me playing with the waves, even strong waves. Only us with the food from a seaside food stand. At that time, I didn't think much about it. Now, I do. It has more than figurative view to it. It did not only demonstrate a place of extremity, when the noon sun bears an unbearable heat that makes you feel dizzy, like on desert. Not only that. It was deeper a moment that now I wish to experience once more. It was truly, unique. It defined itself, marked this beach apart any others I had or will go to, did it not? I wish now that I had told myself then to look and observe the world around me. I regretted being so ignorant then, not knowing what to cherish, to memorize. Often, we find ourselves more than ever, in a time of turbulence when we choose rather to move on and forward. Nevertheless, we sometimes, as well, find ourselves struck by the unimaginably peaceful, gentle sense of a moment when we don't have to tell ourselves that time stops but everything around us, the wind, the sunset, the sea, the waves, the talk, our senses, stop, deliberately on their own, unquestioned, unasked...
I trot down the beach, but hardly in a quick pace because of a somewhat muddy sand. There is no sun, just some bluish white, pale green clouds on the vast sky. Reaching the edge of the farthest waves, I slow down, taking my time to slowly indulge, gradually in the cool water. This need not to be described since every one of us remember exactly or even partly the feeling of the first wave hitting our bare feet. It is strange though, when our whole body suddenly feels the urge of running toward that wave, immersing ourselves immediately into the deep water. But again, I could have my time. I walk along my aunts, occasionally feel the uneven ground under our feet, sometimes giggling out of an unexpected holes. It is magical. I am not sure this kind of thoughts are in any particular books I have read or movies I have watched but I will try to explain it. Honestly, it is a moment when you partly feel yourself returning to a bigger part of a body, of the ocean which you unbelievably think you are a part of. The act of immersing yourself in the deep water does not feel like drowning, like being eaten by the waves. It feels like going home, like joining a lost part of you and making up a lost part of the ocean. I don't know whether it is because of my own imagination, my attachment to the water or the reality of all this. At that very moment, I am lost to my thoughts. I am overwhelmed by the very sensation I feel. It is gorgeous. Is it because I finally find myself returning to a habit, a love I rejected so many times years ago? Or is it the reason of this trip, to the beach, to my father's hometown? Or is it, more simply than we have ever imagined or thought of, that if we truly believe in the value of something, the uniqueness of a matter that means so much to us, we can gradually, be able to feel it? Then, is it...the essence of home? [/FONT][/COLOR][/ALIGN]
