Day II
Harbor Bridge
I woke up early, showered, then went out to meet a friend I haven’t seen on a few years for a cup of coffee. Then I had a little time at the hotel followed by a late breakfast at Kerbie Lane which was quite good.
Then we left Austin headed for Rockport. We made a few stops on the way, then checked into the hotel and bummed around for a bit before going to the boiling pot for dinner. After dinner we drove to the harbor bridge for some photographs and were lucky to see the Barnum and Bailey train full of animals on the tracks.
It’s strange, and sort of sad, to see the animals outside of their element. When they are in the circus and you’re watching the act, it’s a performance. It’s not reality and it’s not meant to be seen that way. But seeing train car after train car filled with elephants, their trunks moving up and down in front of the steel caged windows made me consider their life outside of performance. I can’t say they aren’t happy. It’s obvious their life is different than it would be roaming free. But that doesn’t mean their unhappy. It’s just strange to think in those terms.
After photos, we called it a night.
Day III
my pounding chest
The day began just a little too late to catch the sunrise. But Justin and I went out for some early morning photos anyway. I forgot how bad the humid air here can be on a cold camera lens and I ended up being unable to get any photographs that morning as I waited for all of the lens elements to defog. Lesson learned: leave the camera in the car overnight.
Justin and I had a damn good breakfast on the harbor and picked up something for Bonnie on the way back. Then we bummed around the hotel some more and eventually ended up heading for Mustang Island. We stopped and had some good sushi in Corpus Christi and also picked up a hat so the sun wouldn’t get to us. I had brought one but couldn’t find it and thought I had forgotten it and then later found it. Ha.
I had a fantastic time on Mustang Island. So beautiful. For me, being surrounded in nature or surrounded in love are the two ways one can be physically the closest to God. Really, I’d argue that those are one and the same.
It’s so amazing to stand on the soft, sandy ocean bottom as wave after wave crashes into your chest. Fall back and kick your feet until your back hits the ground and just wait for another wave to pass. Jump through waves as they pass by you. Let waves carry you forward toward shore, then feel the return sweep you off your feet. These waves, these tides, are the pulse of the earth. Wading in them — feeling them push against you again and again — your pulses almost synchronize. There’s nothing quite like it to show you just how small yet important you are.
Despite travelling with friends, I was alone in that moment. I found myself wishing for close companionship. Someone who would feel how heavy the world is with me — side by side — and then playfully remind me of how light it is as well. Maybe a smile, a competitive splash, a kick in the legs, a long kiss, or a playful flash. Something to say “in this world, we are small. Yet in it all, this world, too, is small. And in that, we are all important. ”
Yeah. You can say all of that without speaking.
We stopped at a Mediterranean place for dinner which was quite good. Then we headed to take night photos of Fulton Mansion and then back to the hotel for much needed rest. I should have showered before bed. But, instead, I left the sweet, sticky, salt on my skin over night, so I would be reminded again in the morning.
