I used to be a mermaid, when I was a kid. I would sit in the shallow water with my legs pressed together, bent at the knees, arms stretched behind me to lean on. It was the mermaid pose. Green-blue water would crash against my legs/fins and then move on, leaving behind sea foam bubbles. They’d all pop quickly, turning back into water. Today I sat in the mermaid pose, although I wasn’t trying to. Things have changed.
Two little kids used my fins like a dock. Two little blond boats were attached by outstretched arms - their ropes that tied them off to me. The ocean smelled particularly salty today. Salty waves crashed against the boats, sending them swirling in different directions, giggling and trying not to capsize.
I sat there lost in thought, feeling a little melancholy for a moment. The sky was packed with dark clouds to the eastern horizon. There must have been as many dark clouds in the sky as there were brightly colored bathing suits on the beach. I was missing spring time, when the sky reflected light blue on wet sand and only a scattered number of locals paced the dry parts with me. Those were happy adventures. But the season just had to change, everything had to move forward. Blasted changed.
Mermaids can’t be melancholy though. It is impossible. Sitting in the water amid all the churning makes it very difficult to be stressed. The wind and the waves sing and crash, pushing in and out, churning back and forth, until unconsciously the mermaid starts to pick up the rhythm. Below her the sand follows the water’s shifty movements, making her foundation unstable. The ocean does not like stability; it’s too stagnant. The message seems to be whispered on the wind, this too shall pass. The sea foam swirls around for an instant, and then it’s gone, to return again. The message starts to make sense.
Inconvenient, annoying, sometimes heart wrenching, but necessary is that grouchy old friend of mine, Change.