From the Special Files 10/17/2021

By: Jennifer Richardson Holt

Sometimes it just happens.  You see something that leaves an indelible mark on you. It can be enormous and grand on some epic scale.  It can just as easily be simple and small.  I suppose it could downright be absolutely anything. I know what you’re thinking. Wow, you are really grasping at straws to find something to write about this week!  And maybe you’re right.  But this week I’ve seen things that really impacted me.  And, as per usual, said things made me think about other things of which the mere observation is a profoundly moving experience. Perhaps they may move you like they did me. Perhaps they bring to mind some lost memory from the past that you had cherished but it had gotten lost in your mental treasure chest’s velvet lining or some such metaphorical something.  I just want to take a few moments to ponder and if it proves to serve you the reader well, then all the better.

When examining my memories I stumbled upon one from not so long ago. This one could be something that many of you have seen countless times. The experience of which I speak took place on a beach.  Now I know some of you are avid beach goers and that is fine. I however am not someone who frequents the beach very often. As a matter of fact I can count on two hands with leftover fingers the times in my entire existence that I have seen where the land meets the sea.  For those who are tempted to feel sorry for me, don’t. I’m ok with it.  I don’t dislike the beach I assure you, but it isn’t my getaway locale of choice. However, this frozen bit of time that pulled quickly from the records of my memory took place on a beach on the gulf coast. Now, I will comfortably say that the beaches of the Gulf of Mexico are the prettiest beaches in the continental United States. No, we cannot count you Hawaii. I hear you over there stewing in the Pacific about my statement just then. But you cannot be counted as a normal American location because quite frankly we all know you aren’t. You’re unique and exotic and you are you own brand of special so no, you do not count.  I gave a disclaimer about the continental U.S. so just simmer down my island friends.

Back to the beach at hand.  Instead of sunny sparkling waters this recollection occurs at night.  My husband and I were on a disconcertingly short beach escape for our anniversary. Living only a few hours’ drive from gorgeous beaches is a perk that allows such jaunts.  However, we had the misfortune of our trip being plagued with quite odious weather. The only time it wasn’t raining providing any yearning to actually be on the beach was rather late at night. The sky and clouds had not given up their tantrums though and it was the first time I had ever really seen not only the beach at night up close and personal, but also one of the few times I’d seen the waters below and sky above so astir.  It was strange in the dark because the different shades of slate and navy were somehow aglow. I cannot explain how you could clearly see the definition of all the clouds as they rushed quickly above the noisy whitecaps.  I still cannot understand how the dim light and dark shades of storm were somehow bright enough to be clearly visible.  I can grasp the contrast of the foam upon each pounding wave crest being alight against the boiling black sea but the sky being an inexplicable mixture of dark and light still causes me to shake my head.  I cannot remotely describe it.  How does one describe shadow in terms of its illumination?  How does such a thing even occur to be described?  These are not questions to which I have an answer however witnessing it, which I promise I did, was something to behold. It was all that is diametrically opposed to each other; land and sea, light and dark, black and white and it made a scene that I won’t soon forget.

I rambled far too much about this one occurrence.  I was going to talk about so much more.  As a matter of fact it was a year ago this week when I first heard a bull elk trumpet in the wild. I’d heard the likes of such on television but never been standing in the midst of falling yellow birch leaves near a crystal clear river and watched a massive beast lift his head and belt out an ear splitting call.  It was a National Geographic moment and there I was right in the middle of it! I was going to talk about the countless times I have seen my cat, who is most assuredly as aloof as his species is known to be, rush to the sound of my daughter’s cries. He comes at full gallop with ears perked, his golden eyes almost overtaken by huge dark pupils filled with concern.  She is his girl and he must come to the sound of her distress.  Otherwise, he is as wholeheartedly unconcerned as the classic cat comes across as being. Her cry, however, merits his full attention and seeing his anxiety to return her to happiness warms the cockles of my heart.

Some things just stay in our eyes and ears long after they are gone from hearing and view.  I am thankful that I can hang on to those meaningful bits of time and that they don’t just get lost in the corners of the mind. These are the moments that are highlighted and filed in those special folders. Then even on the darkest or dullest of days we can pull them out, crack them open and we are right back in the midst of the magic.  And thank goodness for them because let’s face it, we all can use that kind of enchantment every now and again.