A Walk Down the Peninsula

I.

Warm spring days made their way earlier into the year than expected. You could hear the cicada’s murmur, as people went about their weekend business amidst the bustling shopping plazas and crowded parkways. The transplanted California cherry blossoms bloomed last night, just before daylight peeked around the corner. An uneasiness & excitement saturated the muffled white noise throughout their drive. When they got to where they were heading, it was bright, colorful, & crowded with tourists– as people milled about the grounds on a regular weekday afternoon. What would they see all along the way? They made their way through the ledges that bordered sunken places of murky depths, until the ledge that that sat facing towards the sea invited them in for a few moments of quiet. There, they sat as the waves weaved in & out against the rocks lining the shore. Sights slowly became distorted– wonderfully repetitive & curiously deceptive. The sea foam clouded their paths, coating the rocks with glimmering greens & blues that blended into the mid day sky.

II.

They found a cave tucked away in a darkened corner, where rumbling waves crashed against the underground sea cavern. The dark tunnel beamed light through the waves, making the ocean spray flicker with a strange translucence. Things only got stranger & every turn left a feint trace in their memories. They sat on a stump in the forrest, where time seemed to rise to an inner bloom. The grass around them swayed to a rhythm that jumped with the sound of crashing waves panged against their shivering thoughts. To him, getting lost in mazes wasn’t so scary when he constructed them himself. “Dad? Dad? Dad…?” But don’t mind that, it’s just the kids. Lefts turn into right, but they swerve back into the last. They kept turning & turning only to find themselves exactly where they had started a minute earlier. As if they had fallen into some uncanny valley, where wonderful things were smeared with a heavy coating of oils that blurred the distinctions that kept them clinging to the breath in their lungs.

III.

Maybe the world had been turned upside down while they were gone, but who would ever know? What time of day was it still? The floor shimmered with a mother of pearl & scalloped tiles seemed to fade into oceans lining, as hot sun burned its sights into their memories. How oddly did time flow around the curve of weekdays, bending with the sound of sirens & symphonies. Everything felt blurred between thin tiling of walls, like the wet stucco of molding public restrooms. The hot weekday, felt like crowded summers in Coney Island, where the dull vividness of the children & sunbathers revealed shades of sunburnt pastel building sides. Thoughts continued to crash in & out of them as they walked along the edge of the coast. They walked down the tiniest of main streets. Exiting the the park after having sat together with little to say & nothing to do, for hours. The flowers & trees swayed with the movement of the sea birds, as they flew against the fading blue sky.

IV.

They walked out towards the street filled with bright lights & slanted houses, where every turn still felt slightly amiss. Two cups of coffee & two seats along a main street on this oddly placed day brought the day to a close. The cold air & thick coffee reminded them how perfectly long evenings went with hard thoughts, as they sat patiently waiting for the city to quiet. It’s funny how an unspectacular weekday you can get lost in plain sight, to feelings & thoughts that don’t necessarily exist. The world was felt slightly indifferent to the falsehoods of their heart & the thoughts that keep them. Months later, they had asked around about the sights they saw that day & the thoughts that they encountered, but no one seemed understand. The world they knew had changed every so slightly in their absence. But their memories didn't fade as quickly. They kept the mysterious thoughts from that misplaced weekday afternoon along the peninsula.