Ten years from now...

... I'll be glad I went to the beach today.

I'll be glad my bike zoomed down the hill toward the shore, cutting through the gray humidity as sweat trickled down my neck.

I'll be glad the fishermen were there, mending their boxy green nets as I tried to take a photo unnoticed.

I'll be glad I paused to watch the three women sweeping trash off the sand, their long sleeves and kerchiefs offering protection from a sun that never appeared.

I'll be glad the beach was almost deserted, but not quite, as I watched fathers squat to take photos of their toddling children in the group gathered down the way.

I'll be glad for the white noise of choppy waves rolling into sand, and I'll be glad for the white mist that blurred the line between sea and sky.

Someday in the future, I will no longer live by the sea.  I will no longer live in China.  And I'll be glad for opportunities seized, for days lived fully, for open eyes and an open heart.  Someday in the future, I'll look back and be glad I went to the beach today.

(Written about a bike ride to the shore and back, Sept. 14)