This boardwalk life for me is through, you know you ought to quit this scene too.
Sometimes, most of the time, particularly in the dead of winter or right before spring’s wild explosion of life and green, I am seeking out what summer feels like. Stifling heat brings a sense of wide open youth, playful desire, endless twilight and wonderment to the world. I want a perpetual summer. I perpetually want sand in my hair and around my toes, I perpetually want sun-licked skin and sticky sweet ice cream and a light heart to make life brighter, easier to bear.
Sandy the aurora’s rising behind us, the pier lights our carnival life forever.
So, during a phone conversation I impulsively suggested to A. that we go to Ocean Grove, New Jersey for a long weekend by ourselves. Admittedly, I wanted to be close to Asbury Park, enchanted as I am by the mythology that is Springsteen. I wanted to explore the place more, intrigued as I was by what I saw the last time I was there. I loved Ocean Grove’s obvious preoccupation for it’s past but it’s attention for it’s present and longing for it’s future. Ocean Grove, tucked away from the interstate, sleepy-eyed and quiet seemed like the best place for us to spend our short but much-need time away.
My hunt for the elusive light, playful essence of summertime completed it’s self on the Jersey shore, in a second floor room of a historical B&B, along the stretch of Asbury Park’s boardwalk. I fell hard for both A. and Ocean Grove. That sandy strip of beach and the town’s narrow streets lined with quaint Victorian houses and the soft skin of her palm in mine gave me that feeling of summer that I hadn’t felt since I was young. Enormous, weightless, in love.
Love me tonight and I promise that I’ll love you forever. –4th of July, Asbury Park (Sandy)