Yesterday I told Kyle I needed to take a mental health day today. I didn't realize it at the time, but today marks three months since Fisher was born. I must have been aware of the date subconsciously, because I woke up this morning around 5 AM with a burning desire to go to the beach and watch the sunrise. I also thought it would be an opportune time to write Fisher's name in the sand. I had planned to do it on Christmas morning, but there was wonderful weather today. Who knows what it will be like later?
I gathered items I anticipated needing, a candle and a glass vase to serve as a hurricane, matches, beach glass, and a wooden spoon. After bidding my sleepy family goodbye, I headed to Sandy Beach.
It would have been nice to light a candle to remember Fisher by. Yes, it would have, but I didn't. The candle I brought with me had too little a wick. I gave up after scraping away wax and wasting no less than five matches. It seems the hurricane wasn't needed afterall. The malfunctioning candle was soon abandoned for other pursuits.
After giving up on candlelight, I decided to write Fisher's name on the sand with the beach glass I had brought. Beach glass is a nice reminder of him since my older boys and I had started collecting it while I was expecting Fisher. After I wrote his name, I took a few pictures. They didn't come out too well as it was still quite dark. However, I noticed as I was writing his name that today would be an excellent day for collecting beach glass. So, I set off to add to my collection.
When the sun finally started to rise, I pulled out my wooden spoon and used the handle to write Fisher's name in the sand. I took several pictures trying to get a great view of the sunrise with his name near the water. I got a couple that I liked, but my favorite came after I resumed my beach glass hunt.
In just a short time, I realized I didn't have room in my container for all the beach glass I could find this morning. Rather than find an alternative way to carry it all, I decided to ignore all the brown glass. Then I elected to pick up only glass with a slight tinge of blue. The rules changed one more time when I found my very first piece of cobalt blue beach glass. Ever since my boys and I had started collecting beach glass, I'd hoped to find some of a cobalt blue color. There was only one piece for me today, but it was enough. After I found it I wote Fisher's name one more time with beach glass. Lovely.
Yesterday evening we went to a party at my grandmother's condominium. As we were waiting at a stoplight looking at people on the sidewalk, Kyle asked me if I ever saw someone I didn't know enter a house and thought about how it is that other people who live in the same town have separate lives from me. I thought it strange to be asked that question as I had been pondering something along those lines that very morning.
While I was at the beach, I noticed others who appeared to be there for completely different reasons than I. The driver of the truck I had parked next to was sitting in the cab listening to rap music and reading the newspaper. After about half an hour, he drove away. Another man was there with his dog. He walked along the beach gathering things from the sand and putting them in a plastic bag. I thought I'd have to compete with him for beach glass. But, I was wrong. He was picking up litter and stopped only to chat with a couple of women who sat near the lifeguard tower with their little dog. Later on a group of young men came. They stood looking at the
huge waves for a bit. One of them finally dared jump in the water. His buddies soon followed. A middle-aged couple strolled up and down the beach speaking softly to each other. There was one woman who stood at the far end of the beach gazing upon the water. A wet suit garbed man swam along the shore with what appeared to be a metal detector in his hand. As I was leaving I noticed a woman sitting in a meditative pose. Her eyes were closed and she smiled so serenely. We were all doing different things yet we all were there at the same beach on the same morning-people seemingly not connected, yet connected just the same. 
