To Rest and Recover…
When I walk along the shore, stopping to peer into the tide pools, it is always with Papa, always early 80’s. We are new to the country, new to the ocean, far from our landlocked Bhiwani. And this new world is a wonder. Papa takes us to Point Lobos again and again, to walk the same trails at different months of the year, different hours of the day. We hike the trail to China Cove. One time, it is pristine, azure. We climb down the creaky wooden stairs built floating above the sandy rock, the steps descending deep into the secret cove. Secret but not secret. Papa’s eyes light up like they always do. He is saturated with satisfaction. The next time, the same cove is choked with kelp. And the next, clear and shimmery again.
The stairs were gone this time. Not a trace left. A park service sign said China Cove needs to rest and recover. So we stood on the cliff, Srini and I, far above our little beach. Lots of seaweed. The sand baby powder, as always. The waves lapping the walls at the edges. We stood in reverence and a little regret. But let it rest.
Mummy said Papa needs to rest. He will talk to you tomorrow. All his kids want a minute of FaceTime with him. Or just a phone call. His kids in Palampur, his kids in America. But he is tired. The ten percent of his lungs that are clear are carrying the full load. “We need you back,” she said to him, “I can’t manage all your kids.” He…
