Life’s Waves

There have been days of overwhelming business of late, infused with that peculiarly American insatiability. It climbs right up inside your soul and grabs you by the throat, seemingly intent on stealing your last breath too.

I pause beside the eddying surf. Evening’s dreams draw down over the Malibu hills and I inhale the formless ocean, offering a silent prayer of thanks for this gigantic beast of power. Even the titanic spirits of Americana seem unable to bend him to their iron will. 

Shrieking voices, tumbling waves and a sharply far-off horizon provide the frame wherein the images of life are brought to focus. Time catches his breath and moves to a stable rhythm once more. I think to myself that life without the ocean in our city of lost angels would be a truly unlivable life.

This stretch of beach in Santa Monica holds many memories; a poignant collection of the fading and the freshly drawn. Vague traces of yesteryear, when our days here belonged to visitors delighting in ephemeral glamour, lie half forgotten next to boldly realised sketches of recent time. Almost a decade into West Coast life and Los Angeles has become home. Only Echo’s distant voice remains on the breeze with her songs of those early mercurial days. 

The sun’s light walks across the sand into the waves which wash away the footprints tracking by the water’s edge. I remember that all of life is simply a dance; the ebb and flow of the ocean’s wave. Sooner or later the places will change. The waves will return to the ocean to re-emerge once more. 

I sit in silence. As often happens these days, memories of our friend Joe Ruggiero spring forth. It’s impossible to comprehend that he’s not somewhere close by, enjoying the ocean with his family on this beautiful evening. I will remember him with love whenever I sit on the beach in Santa Monica; one of the places whose sunny spirit he seemed to carry with him always. Farewell dear friend, see you somewhere down along the road.