He pressed his face into the sand while small moans erupted from his mouth. The waves were gentle and consistent, rushing onto his shoulders and then running away without warning. I watched him as the sand rolled onto his stomach, legs, back. A woman sat a short distance away keeping an eye on him. I bit into my peach and watched. The juice from it ran down my lips and the sweetness made me smile. Finally ripe after sitting on my kitchen table for days. He stood and waded into the water. The woman also stood and brushed the sand off of her bottom. She looked at me. I smiled a smile that I hoped said, “I understand your situation, I admire you both, I love his passion for the sea, I feel the same way.” She smiled a smile back that said, “Ok. As long as you aren’t rudely staring, you may watch us while you enjoy your peach. It looks tasty.”

They navigated their way down the beach a bit more, he was zigzagging in and out of the water. People were avoiding getting in his way. She zigzagged with him. It was clear she had spent his lifetime getting used to what he needs, how he can thrive. She remained far enough away for him to be free, but close enough to save him if need be. I felt his joy at the saltiness of the water. I could see the sun reflecting off of his skin. I could somehow feel the way every sinew of his body was reveling in the sun, the sand, the air. I was also in that place. But for me- the beach was my lover. It was a serious relationship. I could close my eyes and dig my toes into the sand and feel rooted deep into the earth. Feel stable, solid and committed. I felt that he and I both knew the beach was where we could finally be at peace. That ever present turmoil within would somehow be abated by the turbulence of the sea crashing over and over. 

Suddenly I realized that this man did not suffer from a disability. I did. I was the one holding myself back from flinging my body down onto the hot sand like I so desperately longed to do. I was the one sitting crosslegged on my tidy blanket when I wanted to press my shoulder blades deep into the sand and let the waves come and crash on top of me, flinging delicious salt onto my mouth. I was the one constantly looking over my shoulder, hoping someone was still there to keep an eye on me, while he just knew that she was there. That she always would be there. I was the one worried about what random strangers on the beach would think if I rolled around on the earth, arms stretched wide, embracing the universe in jubilant thanksgiving.