A Tuesday Night

a tuesday night,
the hum of the fan perched over my bed resounds like a helicopter in the small, cabana bedroom as I stare out to the Bay, the lights of Hampton lying just below the spectrum of colors scattered throughout the sky as the sunset refuses to end.

it's 9:19...and I should be trying to sleep, but it hit me in the silence of my home as I was preparing for this early slumber, a ritual I do every weeknight, usually earlier than now. The little things I do: setting the alarm and putting it in striking distance for multiple snooze strikes, plugging the company phone into the charger and placing it on the speaker near the fan, so when the call is answered I can simulate driving, and cracking the window so the only sounds I hear is the crashing of the shorebreak some fifty yards away and the fan buzzing in my ear.

The television's blue screen is what I write by, casting a hot, unfriendly glow in the dark room overlooking the darkening beach, a blasting illumination that contrasts and wrestles with the misty shadowed hues outside that make this place so perfect at sunset, and beyond.

Nights here are glorious, a true gift I never thought I would be fortunate enough to enjoy,
to live,
every day.

We survive the winters so we can enjoy the summers.
The credo of the waterman,
the sailor,
the surfrider,
the beachcomber,
the adventurers who live this simple way.
I chose to live here,
like this,
in solitude.
an ocean monk,
because everything else I ever had before now, in regards to environment, have never even come close.

It's time to turn the television off, and enjoy the rest of the show...
good night.