I am walking on the beach. The tide is out and the beach is a flat shelf. The sun is shining, the sky cobalt. Trailing along with me is a small apricot colored cocker spaniel puppy. I am carrying an old fashioned lantern made of sea glass and rose gold in one hand and a piece of Himalayan salt in the other. It’s midday and the ocean is full of salt, so I’m not sure why I need either. But they feel good in my hands.
The pup and I sit to take a rest. I put the chunk of salt and the lantern on the beach at my feet. A man walks by and say, “What a fabulous idea.” He begins walking down the beach and driving in rose gold hooked poles and small rose gold pedestals. They extend to the horizon in organic clumps. He walks back toward me and encourages me to get a move on, “it has to be completed by sundown.”
I stand up, dust the sand off my butt. The dog looks up at me quizzically. I shrug and say, “You know as much as I do, Shorty.” But I go down the beach with the man where we begin hanging rose-colored lanterns on the poles and setting bodacious chunks of Himalayan salt onto the pedestals. The ones I have been carrying are the last to be installed. “Hurry. Hurry. It’s almost time,” he says as he places my items.
We turn together, the man, the pup and me just in time to see the sun fall out of the sky and night come. “Wait for it,” he tells me. And just as the sky loses all of its day, the lanterns light up and the salt crystals begin to hum. I am transported.
We walk back in the glow of the lanterns. “Such a great idea you had,” he tells me. “Next time think bigger,” he says and walks off.