Alone

Pat and I took a drive through Oak Island this afternoon. It was sunny out and if it had been June or July, the roads would have been busy. Kids holding boogie boards and pink inflatable rafts would have been waiting at the side of the road to cross and go through a public access parking lot to the soft, soft sand next to the calm Atlantic. But it was cold outside. Not snow cold, but stick-in-your ear cold. We drove through and found a spot here, in the parking lot at the marina. We were the only ones walking around, even though all the slips were filled with empty boats, noses pointed out to the open water, but tethered and bobbing like anxious hunting dogs at a tree.

There’s a reason I love traveling in the off season. While I love the crowds and the fact that the local coffee shop stays open past 3 p.m. during the summer, I also love walking about, looking at things up close. There’s an anonymity to the solitude, the implied permission to look at things and wander aimlessly. I love this, though, I admit, because I love being alone most times. Today, this empty parking lot reminded me, again, that sometimes solitude is enough.