Sunday, February 20, 2011

Blue Line

Ciera and I walked down the stairs and found Laura waiting for the blue line to come in. The three of us had decided to go north for the day to enjoy the beach, the crowds, and the summer.

The blue line clanged and jolted as people entered and exited. Warm yellow light and the crisp blue of the water flooded through the windows. The rhythmic humming, the jostling, and the steadily passing scenery made me comfortable. We happily made small talk and observed the passengers. The mid morning was warm and hazy. The day would be hot, humid, and perfect for the beach. I remember the pavement, the cars, the artificiality of everything before the beach. The pavement heats up, and smells so distinct.

It is one of the smells of summer. The hot pavement embodies a warm comfort, symbolizes the end of the day. That exhausted feeling, the anticipation of getting into a cool air conditioned space. Sand everywhere, skin glowing and dry. The pavement is terra firma, a contrast to the sand and the sea.

We found our space on the beach and I watched the world pass around me. I pulled out my sketchbook and tried to draw everything. I tried to capture the moment. The seagulls. The children playing in the water. Our feet dug into the sand, the humidity, the crowd. All of it. What I ended up with was an odd collection of lines.

Laura took a nap while Ciera and I chatted away. Ciera made a run for the water. Tried to get me to follow. The warm sand and frigidity of the water presented an easy choice. No amount of coaxing could get me to abandon my seat in the sand. I watched the waves come in. I watched people try to interact with the water.

The hours ticked by slowly. It was good. Every minute that passed was a relaxing eternity, the escape from the wilderness of Boston.

Eventually it did end, Ciera came back from the water, Laura woke from her nap, and I grew tired of my drawings. We wiped off the sand as best we could and traveled back to the city. The smell of concrete hit me as I shook the last bits of sand from my towel. We transitioned back to the solid world. Ciera fell asleep on me on the way back. The afternoon light passed into tunnels. We switched to the green line, walked the five blocks home and took a long nap. The best days are sometimes the ones where nothing happens.