Today I walked on the beach with my book designer. We had been to the printers to look at the last proof of the book before they run the press proof next week. Weeks and months of work and worry over the manuscript had finally resulted in a stack of pages for us leave with someone else after marking in pencil the very last correction.
It was an hour before my return train to Boston and the October sun was warm. Why not go to the beach? We left our shoes near the parking lot and walked barefoot on the fine sand. Our conversation went from aging parents to children coming of age. As we walked back along the beach she said, “Look at that shade of blue.” I looked at the sea and saw the color she saw. She noted its beauty, but also the hint of something complex, foreboding. The color lay across the sea in a way that seemed provisional, as though suddenly it could be taken away. I wouldn’t have seen it if she hadn’t shown me.
How we spend all our days in our own heads, our own thoughts, our own worries. Today, for one moment, I was able to look up and sea the beauty of the color of the sea through someone else’s eyes.