On Saturday I stood outside the Fort Greene Observatory. The sun was strong and the remained summery. There wasn't a cloud in the sky and I checked the time on the bank tower at Atlantic Terminal.
It was 4 PM.
Riis Park was an hour away by train and I got my bathing suit and towel before riding my bike to the Q train. Twenty minutes later I got out at Sheepshead Bay.
Boats of all kinds were racing across the broad channel. Everyone else had the same idea as me. New York was on the water. We all were thinking this is the last day of summer. I rode east. I was dying for a swim in the Atlantic.
Families were fishing in the shallows.
Rushes wavered in the light breeze.
The flowers were fading in color.
Another season was on its way, but not today.
I crossed the Gil Hodges Bridge. There were no other bicyclists and I could see that the parking lot of Riis Park was empty. It was late in the day. Everyone had already made their way home.
The sun was still an hour from setting.
I wanted a last swim and cruised down the bridge into the Rockaway.
The long strand of sand was nearly devoid of bathers.
My toes tested the water. The temperature was perfect. I plunged into the ocean and felt the eternal movement of the ocean.
My people from Maine had lived on the sea.
I felt one with the world.
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