the date

* this entry from 5/27/09 *
The Date, Isla Isabella, Galapagos

He catches my eye from a distance -- interrupting my evening jog.

My pace fades and I start walking up towards him. He looks pensive, his gaze captured elsewhere. His big brown eyes are pointed towards the sky behind me. The clouds look like a brush stroke of water color rose. A sheen covers the shore, captures his reflection. The sea is calm, a soothing lapping of waves.

“Hola.”

I sit next to him and wrap my arms around my knees.

We watch the scenery in silence, comfortable, as though longtime friends. The tide rises, cool water wraps around my toes. A long stretch of sand with two sets of footprints extends before us.

Time passes unnoticed. I like sitting next to him, our gazes crossing.

Water slides up the shore, its white foamy crest draws sand back with it. He stretches upward, his posture erect, and as the next wave laps onto shore, he joins its rhythm, and starts somersaulting in sand towards the water’s edge.

Laughter penetrates. Our eyes meet again.

“So…I have a random question.”

He looks at me with a patient, easygoing attentiveness that calms nerves. His body is moist, it glistens like the glassy shore. I want to touch it.

A breeze lifts mist from the sea’s surface. Under the descended sun’s glow, the scenery is hazy like an oil painting.

“What’s your advice?”

I don’t feel the need to explain myself -- to tell him that I enjoy collecting advice; to tell him about the gambler from Argentina whose advice was “move away from more and more and closer to enough”, to tell him about the Irish fellow who spoke no Spanish and said “the best translation is a smile”. I don’t tell him this. It feels like he already knows, like he just gets me.

“Roll with it.”

We don’t speak the same language, but I understood. His answer elicits a smile.

In one another’s company, we continue watching the ocean, its ebb and flow, until night’s darkness rides in with the tide.

He looks into my eyes, deeply, then gets up, stretches his claws out his shell and crawls across the sand leaving a lingering trail of his presence.

“Farewell Hermit Crab. You’re the neatest date I’ve ever had.”


(Didn't have a camera on me, but here's a flic of a handsome fella; photo source: myanimalblog.files.wordpress.com)