People certainly are eager to get to the beach today. Three of us line up to get into the parking lot when it opens at 5:40 a.m. It’s still dark. I park and wait. The days when we go to the beach always turn out better than the others, don’t they.
Suddenly, instead of being navy blue, everything is light gray. It’s the Crack of Dawn in one of its many guises. I’m beginning to recognize it.
The happy little clams are just starting their day as I pass through the semi-soft sand and go on towards the water.
“Good morning, class,” says the big little happy little clam.
“Good morning, Mr. Big,” the happy little clams respond in unison.
“Today’s lesson is on the demographics of The Squiggly Line.”
“What’s a squiggly line?” asks the first.
“Oh, it’s not just any old squiggly line. This is THE Squiggly Line — the one mapmakers draw to separate the land from the sea. You can watch it move and change with every wave. That’s what makes it squiggly.”
“What’s demographics?” asks the second.
“Oh, that’s just a fancy word we use when we’re going to describe something about the population,” Mr. Big answers.
I walk on, a few steps west. Sure enough, there it is — The Squiggly Line. I follow it south toward the pier. When you start this early, you can get there before they turn the night lights off, and be back in the car while the beach still rests in the shade of the pretty little houses lined up along the strand.
That’s the goal. We’re racing the sun. Let’s go for it.
Lynn Fountain Campbell