Mr. Write's Page

I’m in Oregon on vacation right now. For the last few days, I’ve been driving south along the Pacific coast, taking it easy, taking photos, eating seafood. Life is good.

For me, anyway.

Last night after supper, as the sun was getting low over the ocean, I drove to the beach near the little town of Winchester Bay. I parked, grabbed my camera, and slogged across the dunes to the beach.

The beach at that point is smooth and wide. From the dunes to the shore is at least 100 yards. Only about a dozen other people were in sight.

For a few minutes, I walked around idly, taking pictures of seabirds, people, and dogs silhouetted against the setting sun. Sundown was 30 minutes away. I doubted if I would wait, but I sat down on a log to think about it.

As I sat there, a young girl came into view. She appeared from behind  me, walking purposefully toward the surf. She looked to be somewhere in her 20s.

It was her brisk stride that got my attention. She wasn’t taking a leisurely stroll like the rest of us. She was proceeding like a girl on a mission. No one else seemed to notice, but I was fascinated.

She continued across the sand in the direction of the shore. I sat and watched.

Two yellow Labs romped past her. They took no notice of her, and she took none of them.

Soon, she arrived at the water’s edge, where the sand was wet. I thought she would stop, but she didn’t. She continued forward, into the shallow water, splashing as she went.

My God, I thought, is this a suicide? How do I respond? Do I yell or just start running? At that moment, she was at least 75 yards away.

It was not a suicide, praise be. A few yards from shore, in ankle-deep water, she stopped abruptly. She reached into a pocket and fished out something too small for me to see.

For a moment, she held the tiny object aloft and looked at it, like Hamlet gazing upon the skull of Yorick.

Then, with a mighty heave, she sailed the object into the Pacific Ocean.

Five seconds later, she was striding just as briskly back in my direction.

Wow.

I was positively aquiver with curiosity. What in the ever-loving, blue-eyed world did she cast so dramatically into the sea?

As she approached, I debated whether or not to ask.

On one hand, it was a legitimate question. On the other hand, it was none of my business. She might resent the intrusion. And I am not one to intrude.

A few moments later, she arrived back at the edge of the dunes, 20 yards away from me. She stopped, turned toward the ocean, and peered into the distance, shielding her eyes with one hand.

She stood there for several seconds, looking out to sea. Then she walked over to a nearby chunk of driftwood and sat down.

Smith, I told myself, you MUST find out what that girl threw into the ocean. If you allow this moment to pass without finding out, it will become one of the great regrets of your life.

I know — a major overstatement. But I needed to be prodded into action.

Before my native caution could kick in, I leapt to my feet and walked over to her.

She looked up as I approached. Her expression was blank.

“Excuse me,” I said meekly, “I saw you walk down to the shore a few minutes ago. You threw something into the ocean.”

I hesitated and coughed. The girl continued to look at me with a blank expression.

“I know it’s none of my business,” I said. “But I just — I was wondering what you threw into the water.”

She studied me, but didn’t answer.

“Okay,” I said finally, “I’m sorry I bothered me. I’m leaving.” I turned and began walking away.

“Hey!” she called out. I turned toward her.

Her expression never changed. “It was my wedding ring,” she said.

That was it. No further explanation.

She turned back toward the ocean. I began trudging across the sand to my car.

At the top of the dunes, I looked back. She sat there on her piece of driftwood, gazing toward the setting sun.

Maybe I shouldn’t have taken her photo, but I did.