Writing has been hard for me lately. I’ve written so many letters home, talked to so many people on the phone, edited so many papers, that I feel as if words are dead. I just want to crash on the air mattress that our new host, V., has provided for us. But as that thought enters my mind, a little voice says, “You have to at least tell them about the seals.”
La Jolla has a little inlet along its rocky shore, a sheltered area where parents take their children to swim… until the seals move in. From a manmade levy, I saw harbor seals up closer than I ever have before. They lounged on rocks and sand, fat and shiny, on their backs or sides, occasionally moving to situate their blubbery bodies, rub their webbed feet together, or yawn with a great twitching of their long white whiskers. A baby, trying to nurse its mother, rolled her over like a sausage as it tried to find the teat. Nearby in the water, pups and adults alike played and fished in the water, their heads bobbing in and out of the sunset ripples. I wish my camera could capture their silly beauty. I wish that my words could describe them the way they deserve.
~~~
No comments:
Post a Comment