As I stroll the beach, it is apparent – the startling clear delineation of dark sand and light sand. I walk the middle line, at the edge of where the two abut.
The aftermath of a storm.
The dark sand representing the ocean floor, the light sand demarking the fresh, dry, sunny beach – pristine and clean.
The bottom of the sea had been churned up and spewed out, carrying with it other goodies that reside deep down beneath the surface: crabs, lobster claws, clam shells, a mysterious unidentifiable sea creature, and all the other morsels of life that find safety in the shadows.
They got caught up in an undercurrent – Evicted from their home and vomited out into the bright light. Left vulnerable. Dehydrated by the surface heat.
In the sometimes shockingly extreme message of nature, there was no in between. The dark sand butted right up against the light sand.
I felt disdain for the light sand with it’s floaty, light, airy presence. Separating itself from the reality of death that resided just on the other side of it’s border.
Unaware of the undercurrents. Ignorant to the fact that it was at risk, too.