I remember being in Florida and having a massive argument with my father. Argument, one in millions of words, made up or real, that holds so much meaning. Meaning to so many people.
I had silently walked to the beach, across the street from our condominium, with tears streaming down the sides of my warm cheeks. Red with anger, red with disappointment. A nice man, about 50-60 working his hours as a gaurd said to me, "Good evening, ma'am."
I gave no reply. I made my way exiting the condominium and gave no thought about crossing the street. I luckily made it over without injury. My feet harshly stomp the steps leading down to the sand. Not too harsh to be noticed, but harsh enough to show I am not in a pleasant mood.
My sandals hit the sand and I instantly feel the burning 4:00 p.m. sand. What's the point of sandals if you can't walk normally? I pull off my black bedazzled sandals and carry them near the shore where I throw them to the side, not giving a damn. I hear a noise so faint over the chitchat of on-goers. Music. Ahh, my sweet escape. Not the sweet of honeydew melon or a lollipop. But a sweet filling of jarred honey, beauty to my ears.
I sat on the sand where the tide would soak my black ripped shorts and some of my white crop-top. I didn't care. I just wanted to be alone without a care in the world. The lyrics of Panic! At The Disco filled my ears.
**If all our life is but a dream
Fantastic posing greed
Then we should feed our jewelery to the sea
For diamonds do appear to be
Just like broken glass to me
And then she said she can't believe
Genius only comes along
In storms of fabled foreign tongues
Tripping eyes, and flooded lungs
Northern downpour sends its love
Hey moon, please forget to fall down
Hey moon, don't you go down
Sugarcane in the easy mornin'
Weather-vanes my one and lonely
The ink is running toward the page
It's chasin' off the days
Look back at both feet
And that winding knee
I missed your skin when you were east
You clicked your heels and wished for me*
I sat and relaxed. The sweet, sweet tone of the music filling my mind with beautiful vibes. My safe place. My safe place was music. I could sit there, whilst the cold water of the Atlantic soaked my lower half, and not care.
Safe places are important. Everyone needs one. If you don't have one, you will not last. You will not last mentally nor physically, spiritually or creatively.
Safe places create a small tropical island in the middle of a burning forest. It helps you to keep sane while that forest is on fire. When the fire is done burning and has been put out, you can heal yourself. You can regrow and start off fresh, clear the air, if you will.
Make Yourself Proud.
