Pie de la Cuesta, Pt. 2

The lapping of waves on beach is the most romantic sound in this world. What would a planet be without the kiss of ocean to sand? We came, hearts beating rhythms to impending adventure. Our first movement, a brisk walking pace. Melodies indicative of Mexican birds and Mexican tongues. Of fish on searing grills and sweat running down the bottle-faces of chilled Coronas. Our kettle drums, the brisk pounding of bare feet on hot sand. Our triangles, the tinkling of toasts to sun and sand and the salt sea. A whole orchestra of tastes, and sounds, and smells. And in the calming of that Allegro, we come upon our second movement. A new delight in the calm. The Adagio…

Red red wine. Salt sea air. The soft rocking of a hammock. The soft humming of alternating voices and languages. The soft breeze carrying warm air across wine-warm cheeks. Brushing across closed eyelashes. Tickling the small hairs of arms. A sip of wine. A rocking hammock. The lapping of waves on beach is the most romantic sound in this world. What would a planet be without the kiss of ocean to sand?
But here our Adagio is interrupted with spastic spurts of my personality coming out in 6/8 drumming rhythms. No, this isn’t a metaphor. In the midst of calm seas and calm souls, I, in my inability to meditate upon things in this state for too long, insisted on teaching M.I.P. a drum rhythm I had learned in my youth. We proceeded in pounding hands to chests like Tarzan and Jane (a reference we, nerds both, made at the time) until the wine-warmth of our cheeks moved to our brains and our calm returned for the last notes of this movement. I, with slight motion sickness from the rocking hammock and the red red wine, turned my attention to bed and M.I.P. fell to sleep on the beach at Pie de la Cuesta where the lapping of waves on the beach is the most romantic sound in this world.

What would a planet be without the kiss of ocean to sand?

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