After rarely venturing beyond a one-mile radius of our home since March, my wife and I decided to spend a few days in Ocean Grove, New Jersey earlier this month. Our longing for a change of scene outweighed our fear of mass transit. Since my wife was working on a big project, I left a day before her.
Arriving a few hours before check-in time, I decided to wander, people watch, and grab a bite to eat in nearby Asbury Park.
Asbury Park, a former seaside resort now associated with music and nightlife, borders Ocean Grove. Although the ongoing pandemic has shuttered–hopefully temporarily–the city’s performance venues, most of Asbury Park’s small businesses remained open, and its restaurants offered outdoor dining. While enjoying lunch al fresco and listening to music piped out from a restaurant, I realized how much I missed such a simple pleasure. I felt almost normal. Almost.
On my first evening in Ocean Grove, I walked to the beach to watch the moonrise above the Atlantic Ocean. When I looked around, I noticed individuals and couples gathering to enjoy this beautiful lunar phenomenon. Quietly and unknowingly, we waited to share this moment.
After darkness fell, only the rolling waves disturbed the silence of the Ocean Grove beach. This was not the historically raucous Asbury Park boardwalk. I enjoyed sitting on the sand and studying the moonlight skate across the water.
Later that night, I returned to the beach and lost myself in its stillness. I felt that I had stepped into a Romantic painting. I didn’t think about the next Zoom meeting, the insanity of our president, or the ever-lingering contemporary dread. I thought about nothing. I just stared at the moon, the water, and the sand.
My wife arrived on the following afternoon. Every evening, we would head to the beach, join our fellow stargazers, and watch the moon slowly rise above the ocean horizon.
Although every day carries an uncertainty and a fear not encountered by most Americans in our lifetimes, solace still might be found. I discovered it in the moonlight. I hope that you find it somewhere, too.
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