waves away

September 6 The morning when I am stirred by the breeze over Cape Hatteras is among the best of my young life. Obviously, Brian is already up, standing by the van's wide open side door. “C’mon Sleeper,” he coaxes, leaning into the van and whispering in my ear. "You don't want to miss this."   I inhale the salty waves breaking against the beach behind me. Brian is filling his cargo pockets with juice boxes and muffins. When I sit up, he pulls the sheet off me, folds it into a square and tucks it under his arm.   “C’mon,” he says again, heading for the steps. I zip a hoodie over my pajamas and step out of the van for the first time with bare feet—I take a minute to swirl them around in the sand before following him. At the top of the steps I pause as I did yesterday. It's just a little breath-taking. The sun is not yet showing but the sky is infused with the color of apricot. There are a few walkers at the ocean’s edge--one with a coffee mug, one w...

Small bites more often is what the doc recommends -- I'm going to plate the rest of this 2001 road trip one day a week. Herewith, we move on from the mosquitoes...   September 5   I open one eye as Brian urges me awake with pokes at my earlobe and buzzing noises. There’s something wrong with how infallibly spry he is every morning, completely rebooted. He’s got the video camera going again. The van windows are fogged with dew, an illusion of cool, but as I sit up and rub my eyes the dew is already evaporating, glinting in the ruthless sun as it goes.                            “Tell the folks at home how your night was, Honey.” I put one middle finger against the camera lens. “Do you still wanna go on the trip with me?” "Do I have a choice?” “I could drop you off here; you could hang out with Billy Joe and Bobby Sue.” The rock stars in the tr...

For those who might be enjoying a trip back into the summer of 2001... September 3 I wake up slowly to the light seeping through the lace curtains, and recognize that this is the last mattress I will enjoy for many days. I linger, though the lace on the pillow scratches my cheek. Brian, always so cheery in the morning, is pointing the video camera at me.             "Ready for the big adventure?"             "Ten more minutes." I shoo him away, but the eerily quiet house compels me to rise and get ready. I linger more in the shower, aware that it will also be many days before I again enjoy a private bathroom. The hot water does its work, and despite the bite of the air conditioning when I exit, I dress appropriately for another day in the pitiless sun, stashing yesterday's sweaty clothes in the side pocket of the duffle bag.       As the rest...