fond of sand dunes

08/17/2022 1 By BuddyCushman

On the tail end of this morning’s walk, the place and space of Cape Cod floated into my mind. Followed by this thought – I’ll die there.

Not like imminent death, hopefully, or immediate transfer from the left to the other coast. Just a clear image that I will return to Cape Cod one of these days, and live out whatever life I’m continued to be gifted with.

Factually, renting an apartment on Cape Cod is beyond my means. As we always liked to say, times are hard, and especially with paying to live somewhere. Especially somewhere lovely and filled with the possibility of seaside air and light magic on any waking day. Which, of course, if you know me, presents absolutely no impediment to the thought I’ll live on the Cape again. I simply can’t see how that’ll happen here – in San Diego – today. But, if you do know me, you know I can “see” something happening somewhere down the twisty, curvy, swervy road of this life, and its chances are good. Good.

Today, if I bothered to actually play the lottery and then hit it, money not an issue, I’d choose Orleans as my landing spot. Though I can feel Falmouth whispering in my right ear too – pick me, pick me. In my book “The Files of Milky Dent”, there’s a whole bunch of Falmouth. Yeah – the tile of the first chapter: “You Stay Young on Cape Cod.”

I’m not much for tourists or traffic jams or winter, never mind boogie boarding with Great White sharks. But, paying attention is my way these days, here in my 70’s, and Cape Cod came to me walking back down 28th this morning. Like a Judy Garland song – “Someday Over the Bourne Bridge.”

Just like that.