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The Journal of A. Paige White Little salty assaults workshop
09/02/2006 04:36 p.m.
Moss Point bound to point to the sound
of salty sea breezes and first interractions
of a little salt's first trip through
Katrina ravaged sands to the gulf of a quieted ocean.
Few the takers to observe three trekkers
Pass salt marshes in June's permissive may
to captives take their hearts to salty
Sand, tiny footprints to lead the way
Until the feet touch and feel the sand.
Previously beaches scouted by an older salty's
Piercing eyes of gray reflective in a mighty sun
With gentleness to portray a long life's love
And acclimation of a one so young
to the stern beauties of the ocean.
Powdery sand little feet find strange the feel
So walking between old salty and his little woman
the feet come up in a pair like a stork
til he's carried by his hands
laughter rings and the joy it brings
Pops had to take us by the little reserve where legend shows alligators that ARE NOT to be fed. He and William, of course, go by regularly with burgers for them. I could spend my whole vacation just traveling the back roads looking at the salt marshes. Ocean Springs, the little cross section I saw, is still beautiful despite Katrinas efforts. The sadness still prevails at times and in regions, but nothing like Biloxi/Gulfport. Chip had previously scouted and found us a little beach, just a little stretch with few takers, where we could take Logan. The last trip down, he would have nothing to do with sand at all. Wet or dry. Didn't matter, it was all bad stuff to him, it clings to you in a disgusting manner. This time Pops lifted him onto his shoulders, a freckled and grizzled magic carpet, with little swim trunks sagging so badly we had to laugh at how much he resembles Jamie. My gentle reminder of the possibility of gentle golden showers trickling down his shoulders was met with gruff remonstrations of just how efficiently the salt water would take care of such a possible soiling. Pops is just as much the adoring fool over that child as the rest of us. He's just wonderful. Never fussed or complained the whole trip down and didnt sleep but maybe 1 of the 3 hours.
Pops acclimated his ittle bitty salty in stages. Walked out to hip deep and slowly lowered himself to his knees, letting the swells of the receding tide lap Logan's feet. It didnt take long and he quit drawing them up out of it. Then we walked back into the shallows and while I was chasing a soft shelled crab, he sat down in the sand with logan on his lap. They sat like that for a while, communing with breeze and sea. By this time, Ive found Sebastian with an attitude. Ready to fight til the death of one of us. He was serious about his little beach area. I was an intruder. I had to stop and wonder how much of me he could really see. Or did the only me he was interacting with , which wasnt even me, but a mussel shell, exist only as a diaphanous shadow hanging over the shell of engagement. Was that little shell I held before him all he comprehended of my presence? Is that how my perceptions of God, in respect to his actual presence and person, correspond? God became me today and I became a crab. I could see it all the more plainly when suddenly, he realized he was not defeating me with his aggression and offensive stance, so he burrowed down shallowly with only nervous stemmed eyeball thingys surfacing. The silt settled becomingly. I bury myself when things get a little wild, too. I had to chuckle. Ive twitched my eyes nervously side to side and back and forth, outside my burying too, hoping the big ole bugger will just go away.
Logan decided it's ok to sit in sand if you're scooping it to build with. Pops scooped out a pond complete with little minnows and made Castle ScoopLesFille. I found several mussel shells and brought him two that looked like canoes, shallow so they would float on his ponder moat. He decided that salty, wet, sand is ok. It even has usefulness.
The trip back across the dry sand did not see little Logan foot prints. The first step off the damp into a drift of high and dry had an immediate uncontrollable reflex. He drew both legs up higher than a stork. We continued to carry by the hands wed previously just been holding for about 7 steps before realizing our cajoling to put his feet down and walk were not going to be heeded at all. Back up on Pops the magic carpet.
His sun kissed me with shades rosy and golden
I am currently Reflective
I am listening to Teletubbies
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