I’ve been on a “Coronacation” in North Carolina for the last week. This isn’t to say the virus doesn’t exist here because it does, but I’ve been free of video conferences, constant anxiety, and work. Today I was supposed to travel home to cold, gray Ohio, but the remnants of Hurricane Zeta were forecasted to bring heavy rain and wind on my path of travel, most of which is through the mountains of Virginia and West Virginia, so I opted to stay—a bonus day.
Zeta’s rains stayed away from Sunset Beach, but her (I know Greek letters don’t have a gender) warm, tropical winds were blowing in from a southwesterly direction. High clouds obscured the sun for the most part. By noon, I had already walked two miles to the edge of the island in a stiff headwind and was enjoying the tailwind on my return. My bare feet splashed through the last minutes of the ocean’s retreat into low tide.
Moments earlier I noticed a man in a bright green shirt some distance behind me. He walked quickly and soon passed me in his dark blue Keen sandals. We exchanged a brief wave and a smile. (Here at the beach, it seems, we are not as afraid of each other as we are in the rest of the world.) A few steps later, I saw him bend down and pick something up out of the sand. He examined it and started walking a diagonal path back toward me. Where’s my mask? Does he have a mask? It’s ok, I reassured myself. This interaction, whatever it might be, would most likely be brief.
“Here,” he said, handing me a sand dollar. “It’s not perfect, but it’s a good one.” He smiled. “Thank you!” I replied. “I hope you have a great day.” I held this specimen in my hand with great gratitude and wonder. Never had I found one this intact, or as imperfectly perfect as this one. The stranger gave me a beautiful and simple gift on my bonus day, but he also unknowingly challenged me as I continue the hard work of loving and accepting myself.
My therapist and I have been working on some dialectic strategies, or holding opposites in tension. Can I change a few of the stranger’s words and apply them to my inner work: “I’m not perfect, and I’m a good one”?
I can and I must. Thank you, stranger.
