Thomas Lee McCulloch | Белбог (bornebybliss) wrote in paxletalelogs, @ 2017-07-16 20:51:00 |
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Entry tags: | belobog, freyr |
I got that sunshine in my pocket
Who: Thomas and Rafe
What: Friendly meetings
Where: Beachfront at Pax
When: May 28th, 10 a.m., backdated like whoa!!
Sunday morning proved to be more beautiful than Saturday morning, and Thomas was glad he kept his expectations high. It never hurt to be optimistic, and it also never hurt to head down to the beachfront, sandals in tow with a smile to greet the day. This particular morning had been ripe with shell collecting, his intentions aimed at creating natural art deco for his new home. Shells piled high in a mason jar resting in the sand, Thomas unfurled a yoga mat and positioned it away from any stray rocks or grass. Slipping off his sandals, he breathed in the salty air and let out a relaxed sigh. The sand was warm beneath his feet, and his heart couldn’t have felt lighter.
At this point, he was convinced that there could be no better place in all of Newport Beach to feel more at one with the earth and the sun. And there was a particular bit of amusement to be found in practicing yoga on the beach, while also living in a city with ‘beach’ in the title. Sure, life wasn’t perfect, but little moments like this were well worth it. The gentle rolling of the waves south of him made for a peaceful ambience, and Thomas began his warm up by reaching towards the sky in the ‘chair pose,’ his knees slightly bent. If the center of the world could be felt by mankind, surely he was only several tries away from discovering how to connect with it.
His attempts to do so attracted the attention of another beachgoer. Rafael, who had been on the water for hours already, was making a saltwater-soaked path up the beach, a shortboard wedged under his armpit. A black rashguard covered his chest; blue swim trunks covered much of his legs. Still he did not look overly warm or even slightly uncomfortable. He looked perfectly at ease, entirely in his element. The smile he turned to the beachgoing yogi only furthered that impression.
"Good morning," he said, amber eyes darting toward the jar. "Having good luck with the collecting, I see?"
Thomas shifted into his next position, affectionately titled ‘Warrior II,’ although he felt he was anything but war-like. The only kind of warrior he’d ever wanted to be was a warrior for the environment. Arms outstretched, legs bent, he greeted the surfer with a radiant grin. “Mornin’! This beach is ripe with pretty shells, I just couldn’t resist collectin’ a few for myself! Take a gander in there if ya like, and if ya see anything that suits your fancy, have at it.” There were, after all, far more than a ‘few’ shells in his mason jar. In fact, the jar was only several shells away from overflowing. Besides, he certainly didn’t mind sharing.
“‘Course, I’d be careful not to cut yourself, seeing as how some of those are mighty sharp,” Thomas added as a precaution.
Rafe nodded, chuckling. He moved closer to the other man, his gaze flicking over him to observe the slow shifts in his posture. Soon his eyes wandered back to the jar, studying the countless shapes and colors there. "They're all yours," he said. "I'm only admiring. What do you do with them all?"
“I intend to make them part of my home,” Thomas explained, tossing a bright smile at the friendly surfer and moving fluidly into the morning’s third position. “They’re already art by themselves, ‘cause what else could ya expect from Mother Nature but beauties like these?” He nodded down at the jar of shells, but in truth, his statement referred to all of the shells on the beach. It just wouldn’t be right to act as if the ones he’d collected were somehow better than the rest. “I figure I oughta try my hand at man-made shell decorations, on account of the surplus out here. Never seen anything quite like it, and then I’ll have the beach inside my apartment, too.”
"That sounds lovely," Rafael said. "Very inviting. Are you nearby, then?" He nodded and pointed toward a tall building off in the distance, one side of which faced the beach on which they stood. "I'm just over there. If you do yoga in the mornings I'm sure you'll see me out here. I like to catch a few waves before all the tourists start showing up. If I see any particularly interesting shells I'll save them for you, if you want."
Thomas followed the surfer’s line of sight, delighted to realize that their homes were, in fact, located one in the same. “Well, fry me in butter and call me a catfish! I happen to live over yonder, too. Fact of the matter is,” he said with no shortage of good humor, “I'm new to these parts, and I gather you're a shade less green than me, but I’m still pleased as punch to meet ya, all the same.” He shifted again on his mat, soaking in the sun’s rays and thanking his lucky stars that he'd picked a fine morning like this to be on the beach.
“I’d be grateful if ya saved a few shells for me and brought them by now and then. I'm on the ninth floor, as it were. Thomas McCulloch, naturalist at the local Environmental Nature Center.” He held out a hand in greeting after dusting a bit of stray sand off his palm.
Rafael took it in his own, drying sand and salt still lining his hand. He shook it firmly all the same, smiling as he withdrew. "Rafael Atala, first floor. I'd be glad to bring you some shells, if I find any particularly interesting ones." He rubbed at his nape, smiling down at his new acquaintance. "So where are you from, Thomas? If you don't mind my asking. It's just I haven't heard an accent quite like yours before, I don't think."
“The Lone Star State,” he admitted with a genuine touch of pride. “But I spent a lot of time up in Philadelphia. I hear there’s an awful lot of people movin’ to Texas these days from California, but I just had to do the exact opposite.” Thomas laughed and shook his head, as if the idea of Texans moving to California in droves was the last thing on anyone’s mind--but he certainly couldn’t fault any westerners for making the trek down south. “I’ve been a little bit of everywhere, really, on account of servin’ some time in the Peace Corps.” He peered inquisitively at his new neighbor, deciding he quite liked this Rafael fellow. “Now, I don’t mean to keep ya long, but Atala sure isn’t a name I’ve ever heard before. Were you lucky enough to grow up in these parts?”
"No," Rafael said, his smile hardly flagging. He knew little of Texas, having driven through it a lifetime ago; he vaguely remembered high-piled plates of barbecue and unexpectedly welcoming faces. But Thomas' warmth was enough to cast a still more pleasant glow on those memories, and he found himself opening up a bit more. "I'm from São Paulo. But I've lived here for quite a while, so if you're ever looking for recommendations, especially food, I can certainly help." He gestured toward the young man. "What did you do in the Peace Corps?"
Thomas’ hazel eyes widened first in surprise and then in delight--not only did Rafael have miles of traveling under his metaphorical belt, but he was willing to share some of the benefits with him. Thomas felt gladdened to find someone who, in his book, clearly was a kindred soul. “I’ll have to take ya up on that offer some time, despite not being starved for choices down here,” he asserted before launching into the most contained spiel he could muster about his time with the Peace Corps. “Well, I did a lot of science teachin’, mainly in Sierra Leone and Madagascar. Lots of high school aged kids just lookin’ to learn about the planet and how it works. I had the time of my life. Ya really oughta think about taking a visit down there one day, if ya can swing it. It’ll change everything.” Beaming, he focused on maintaining his balance while speaking to Rafael; life itself was all about balance, and yoga was no different.
"That sounds wonderful," Rafael said. "It's been a while since I've done any travel that wasn't work related. It's probably well past time. But that's very admirable work. And very fulfilling, I imagine. Do you still teach at all? I'm sorry, I'm not really sure what a naturalist does."
“‘Course I do,” he replied with a grin, sitting crossed legged in order to better converse with Rafael. He silently counted his breaths in and out, feeling the wonderful sense of exertion in his muscles. Combined with the warm sunlight, it could have been uncomfortable--but instead, it was glorious. “Down at the Environmental Nature Center off East 16th street. There’s lots of friendly folk down that way,” Thomas added, tilting his head slightly in curiosity. “Don’t know that I caught what kinda work keeps ya busy, but if ya get to travel a lot, it can’t be too bad.”
Rafael smiled pleasantly, and nodded, though he made no effort to provide this missing information. He suspected Thomas, warm and welcoming as he seemed to be, would pass no judgement on his chosen career, but this seemed neither the time nor the place for such confessions.
"It's not at all," he agreed. "I've had some free time lately, too. Maybe I'll come down some time and see what your place is like." He rubbed idly at his nape. "I guess I'll see you around the building, though. A couple of hours in the water and now I really need some breakfast…"
“I reckon we'll be runnin’ into each other now and then,” Thomas agreed, amicability never wavering. “Now don't let me stop ya from fillin’ your bread basket,” he added with a merry chuckle, content to stave off his own hunger for the time being, determined to finish his morning yoga routine. “It sure was a pleasure gettin’ to know ya.”
"You too," Rafe answered. He picked up his surfboard once more and wedged it under his arm. With a smile and a small wave, he set off for home.