Bernice and I and a December Day

It’s a warm, windy, and sunny afternoon, the fifty plus degrees surprising in mid-December; a perfect day for an ice cream.  Bernice and I head off to Puleo’s for their tasty homemades on Route 107 to order our sweet treats.  She a strawberry frappe all foamy and pink; and I a coffee ice cream soda like my Dad bought me when I was a girl.  We salivate as we drive off to a beachfront Nahant destination.

While driving over the causeway, the wind pushes the high tide over the wall to splash on our car as we pass.  Bernice ducks as if the particularly large wave could come in to drown her.

We arrive at the Tides and park in the restaurant’s back lot with its panoramic view of the Atlantic Ocean and Lynn, Swampscott, and Marblehead beyond.  The car rocks back and forth in protest against a strong gust of wind.  We grab our drinks, while seagulls hang in mid-air trying to go who knows where, and settle in to watch nature’s performance.

The ocean is a blue-gray vision of white-capped waves in a rush for the shore against the fierce wind, each wave trying to maintain control of its forward motion, but losing its crest to the force of the wind.  The back spray creates a billowing cathedral length wedding veil cascading back over the water, falling gracefully into an oncoming wave.

The sun, in its quest to free itself, breaks through the gathering storm clouds to turn the spray droplets into millions of mini prisms that burst into color for just a moment, knowing we are watching.   

Early evening descends on us shutting out the sun and darkening the view, our cups are empty.  We reluctantly back the car out of our parking space and head for home.