At Last

The bitter cold, as my feet sunk into the icy sand, seemed to paralyze me. I wasn't expecting it. Sand is meant to be hot, so hot you need to wear flip-flips as you leave the beach after a long day of sunbathing. It's supposed to burn your feet and cause you to run to the ocean to cool down--fear of getting heat blisters is ever present. It's a trapper of heat and sun. It radiates, expands and fills the area with heat.

Hot sand is the emblem of summer.

Except when the summer hasn't begun and you are illegally sneaking on to a beach at 10 o'clock at night.

And I guess that's what I was imagining when I removed my new Toms--for fear of ruining my new favorite shoes--and inched my toes into the crystalized rocks. I wasn't expecting to jump. Or to scream, 'Holy shit that's cold!" Or to dance around in a circle like some sort of Indian Rain Dance, hoping I had merely stepped in one cold spot and the rest of the sand that surrounded me was miraculously warm and inviting.

It wasn't.

It was so cold I thought I had stepped onto an icy tundra. My immediate thought was, "Wow....this must be how the eskimos feel. Except they don't have sand." I could feel those awful pins and needles--that you get you when your feet are falling asleep or right before a Charlie Horse hits you--traveling from the soles of my feet up to my calves. My entire body rocked with shivers within minutes, and I really regretted not bringing a warmer hoodie--I did not pack appropriate clothes for a frigid night, as my mind was still thinking, "It's the beach, it'll be warm." I was longingly thinking of my comfy North Face jacket, hanging nicely in my closet as I had assumed winter clothes were no longer needed in May. Stupid. Stupid. I instantly regretted a lot--not bringing sneakers and socks, not packing layers upon layers of sweaters, removing the one pair of gloves I had been carrying in my purse for months on that exact day, the day I really needed them.

But none of this made me put my Toms back on.

Along with being cold, the sand was slightly moist from the ocean breeze and mist blowing in from the bay. The bottoms of my pants were already pretty wet from it. And my Toms were made of canvas and very flimsy, so I knew they'd get soaked and ruined with one firm foot plant into the sand.

I'd suck it up for as long as I could stand. I didn't come all the way down here to turn around after 5 minutes.

I inch further and further onto the beach. My steps are slow and careful--light-footed so I don't sink too deep into the freezing sand. I'm actively looking for feet tracks to step into, figuring the sand had already fallen into the mark and wouldn't cover my feet once I stepped in. Unfortunately they were few and far between as the beach looked to have been combed and vacant for quite some time. I attempt large, giant-esque steps to step into the ones I do find. I can feel the wind picking up. Silt blowing in my face, and my hair one big ball of crazy. The chill was radiating in my entire body. Shaking from head to toe with the force of it, I can barely take anymore.

The sand suddenly becomes hard and compact. Nearing the water does that. I no longer need to worry about stepping too deep into sand--it stays still beneath my feet. I should've stopped where I was. I should've put on my shoes or sat down and attempted to warm up my frozen feet, but the sound of the ocean beckoned me forward. The waves crashing, the salt water lapping in the tide, the faint sound of a seagull flying home for the night. It was all just too tempting to stop. I wanted more. I was tempted, beyond tempted to run forward to the tide and wade into the water. To dip my toes into it and slosh around. To run back and forth with the tide, like I did as a child years before. To let my feet drink in the salt water and let it surge around me. My toes arch forward, leaning into the ocean, ready to take the plunge.

But you pulled me back in.

Away from the bitterness and into the warmth of your waiting arms. You wrap your arms around me so tight that I can barely breathe. You lean forward, crouching a little--I'm pretty short, I know--and lean your chin right by my ear. Whispering funny things, cute things that are just between us. You threaten to throw me over your shoulder and run right into the ocean. I shreak in protest, even though I know you'd never. My smile was growing by the minute. So big, it was starting to hurt my cheeks. Suddenly I forgot about the cold and just want to stand there in your arms forever.

I feel safe.

Protected.

Complete.

Like nothing and no one mattered until you, until this moment. All that time I had been searching and waiting had finally come to its end. And in your arms, at last, I really felt it.

Your embrace lessens, but only for a second as you turn me around to face you. I can see the sly smile on your face and my heart flutters. You take my head in your hands, lean down, and kiss me. And I kiss back, almost like I had never been kissed before. Like I was discovering it for the first time and desperately wanting more.

"Let's get you inside," you say, as you swung me onto your back, offering a piggy-back ride as means of travel.


The next morning, I woke to sunlight pouring in through the window. Beautiful, pure sunlight welcoming the perfect Spring day. Banishing all thoughts of the bitter wind from the night before. I am still wrapped in your arms. In your warmth that kept the cold away. Still feeling complete and safe. At last.