Crashing - Karen Oliver

She practically tiptoed out of the house so no one would wake. It wasn’t often she stayed so close to the ocean and she wanted to “know” this place more deeply. It was barely light, still that gray sameness over everything that you knew soon would start to differentiate into deeper shadows and gradually into the fresh colors of a new day. She loved the way it could change in an instant, first a line of blue in the cloud, then more contrast in the whites and grays increased, almost as if the images were appearing out of nothing. It seemed like such a gift, watching the night open into the clear colors of day. Ah, the air; Hard to describe this air. The sounds of the gulls overpower it and nothing else was noticed for a moment. One must breathe deeply. The smaller sensations and the smells of the kelp and the wet sand are lost for a moment in the overpowering crashing of the surf. Piles of kelp lie on the wet sand and slow her walk even more as lots of small flies scatter with each of her steps before settling again on the kelp. In the distance there is the silhouette of one person and the shadow of a dog. She is glad they are walking away.