Being reminded of Reject Beach in turn reminded me of The Waves — reminders are such an endless looping maze. One can actually see The Waves (the looming backside, with those impressive chimneys) from Reject Beach. I'd forgotten about that, as I most often see The Waves from the front, or maybe it's the side, along Ledge Road, which happens to be the last entry/exit to the Cliff Walk before it disappears around the corner to an abrupt end.
Long ago — a lifetime ago — when I was somewhere in the age range of my two kids (Super Son and Darling Daughter), I spent a weekend babysitting for someone's condo at The Waves. I can't recall why this couple wanted a sitter — did they have pets?? There were no kids. Maybe they were just doing me a nice turn; it was a nice turn (of events) to be able to stay out there in that architectural wonder at ocean's edge and watch boats glide by in the foggy not-so-far-away distance and listen to waves crashing all night long ...
Except I didn't sleep very well. At some point I rolled over in a hot haze (not unlike this past week, when I've felt in a hot haze night and day) with the sense that something fuzzy was sitting on my arm. Whatever it was, I flung it off my arm and through the air — in my dream. But then I awoke and realized there were rats (yes, rats) running round and round the perimeter of the room where I'd been sleeping. So I spent the rest of the night in the middle of that otherwise-lovely seaside bed holding myself together by holding myself in a terrified ball as far from every edge of the bed as possible all the while watching these rats — and listening to them squeaking, so maybe they were just very large mice, with very long tails — 'til they disappeared at dawn (where was the entry/exit??) into the surrounding rocky ledges, their apparent daytime home.
I don't believe I ever mentioned what could be termed a real nightmare to the condo owners, who happened to be friends of my mom's. I'm not sure why (or why not). I guess I didn't want to complain. I mean, people would jump through hoops to live, even for a weekend, in a spot like The Waves.
And today — perhaps this is the other thing that reminded me of it — I'm sitting on a hot hazy day with my mom's fuzzy long-tailed puppy curled up at my feet while she (my mom a.k.a. Grandma Betty) and some friends are off listening to Gergely Bogànyi play the sixth in his ten-part series of Chopin concerts at The Elms.
In short (hardly), I'm babysitting again —
Or maybe just keeping an eye on things.
And I'm not complaining!!
Really, it's a dream ...
Just for the record: I have no idea what that hoop is — a sundial?? The Mooring is a fine seafood restaurant in a superb waterfront location (but they just don't build chimneys like they used to). The rats were not a dream. And that is not me in the bikini.
