This past Sunday, we rose early.
Do you really want to do this, asked the husband as the alarm went off.
Yes, I said.
Or we can just roll over and go back to sleep?
If you are tired, it’s okay. But if not, I really want to go.
Okay then, he grumbled. But we stay put in the car, okay? I don’t feel like getting out of the car.
So we freshened up and had a cup of tea (me) and black coffee (the husband), and lounged about a bit and then promptly got dressed. I know the husband said that we wouldn’t step out of the car, but I took my gloves and ear muffs along. Just in case.
We were headed to the Sandymount Strand beach, which was in the 5 km radius of where we lived. The 5 km radius was important because under the lockdown one can’t go beyond that radius.
I wanted to watch the sun rise over the beach, and this was a beautiful clear day. Clear, bright and without a drop of rain or foreboding, dark clouds.
You see, when you have never lived near the sea before, it is fascinating. You cannot get enough of it. Even though we can see the sea from our bedrooms, we always squeal in delight when we are driving and it appears, a shimmering blue ribbon over the horizon.
It is a novelty, a delight, a privilege.
There were a few people when we reached the beach. I sat in the car as promised.
Now that we have come so far, let’s get out a bit? The husband suggested.
I jumped out of the car like an excited dog, lest he change his mind.
There was still time for the sun to emerge out of his slumber but the clues were there. It looked like the sun was out of his duvet, and just freshening up, his golden mane visible under the clouds.
When he finally made an appearance, it was like fireworks in the sky – colours and sparks splattered across the vast expanse, his power and rage and light eclipsing everything else. Everyone stood still and watched, mobile cameras in hand.
I am so glad we came, said the husband. It is stunning.
I looked in awe and wonderment. How beautiful it must be for those who have always lived by the sea.
For us it is a privilege, and perhaps in a way, for a limited time. I say, limited, because we may move homes, and while you are in Dublin, you are not really very far away from the sea, it may still not be in such close vicinity. Already several blocks of apartments are coming in our locality and we will lose the view of the sea from our bedrooms.
And I treasure these views, this absolute thrill of getting into our car and arriving at the beach in less than 10 or 15 minutes. There are days when I look out of the window, and a large ship is passing by on the distant horizon and I stare fascinated. Sometimes I wake up early in the morning and flit from one bedroom to another, taking in the views of the sea as it sometimes rises from the mist and the fog.
I haven’t taken the sea for granted and I never will. Our move to Dublin has not been without its challenges and there are days when I feel a deep sense of loneliness and displacement, however having an opportunity to live so close to the sea is one thing that I am deeply grateful for.
A little verse inspired from this particular sunrise The sun yawns and stretches And emerges out of his bed His sleep is over, his rage is awake He brushes his teeth, spitting fire in the sky Tearing open the cloudy curtains, he peers down A little bored but also a tad delighted To find us all staring in awe He preens himself some more, his golden mane all aglow We stand in wonder, with mobile phones in tow As we set about a-clicking He smiles and smirks Puffing up a bit, the orange rim growing What a load of earthlings stare at me every day I must be good, so good that they come here each and every day