poured out before bed
I’m still wearing the tired scrubs – thin from many years cycle through the hospital scrub machine – from my overnight call, but I’ve managed to find a pair of sandals in the trunk to dress down such formal attire. The sand is warm and gritty on my feet as the morning sun softly touches my face, the cool wind blowing back those stray hairs that have found their way out of a once organized braid to tickle my face and neck. I wade out into the cold water, long past where I’ve rolled up the legs of my pants, rumpled from the quiet, two hour drive I’ve just made, feel the damp soak past my scrubby shell, to my undergarments, to my skin. With a great sigh I pitch back into a full float and let the gentle waves take me where they will. I emerge a good time later, soaked, crumbling with sand, feeling both more and less like myself, and heartily ready to enjoy what lies ahead.