Buried

  There’s so much debris left from the hurricane, but it can wait. Instead of filling the basket to the top, I set it on a rock. I feel a surge of something. I’m not sure why it is, but I feel like running. I begin with a slow jog down the beach, then I speed up a little and run in the waves. They are small, baby waves, and I run fast through them, making my lungs strain. I imagine I’m on the cross-country team. I wonder if they ever practice on the beach.

  My breathing comes in fast puffs, and I smile to myself. Then I laugh as I identify the feeling.

  It’s hope.