essays by shé

bookshelf

Tag: art

  • Cleaning

    There’s a big difference between cleaning an abode you own versus one you rent. I was cranky and disgusted. A cockroach had leaped out of the tostada bag onto my lap. My bare lap. Then scurried onto the towel I was sitting on, a pretty blue one with fish. I did not want squashed cucaracha on my…

  • Sounds

    Dolphins in my swimmin’ hole! Well, theirs, yeah? The whole ocean.  I hear them before I see them, breathing. Hoosh hoosh. Standing on a small hill overlooking the calm Sea, I turn toward the sound. Hoosh hoosh hoosh. A pod! Such joy. They swim south around the point, out of sight. Sunrise. More excellent sounds: “Alliterative tour de force.”…

  • Fishing

    “Where’s your husband?” asks a stocky, mustachioed man halting before me. He holds a long fishing rod in one hand. With a mouth full of burrito de machaca, I gesture to the butcher shop across the street. He moves on down the Loreto sidewalk, twirling his reel.  It’s hot, but I’m too hungry to find…

  • Swingin’ on a (Gulf)Star

    To get to Habibi, you must pass Enchantment, Namaste, Alley Cat, and Go Dog Go! Every single time I return to her — from swimming or grocery shopping or marina business — I grin, relieved she’s still floating, amazed that she’s mine. Yep, it’s dawning on me that, after 42 years of searching, I finally…

  • Dusk

    A faint path lopes along the top of the isthmus that separates the mooring lagoon from the sea. I didn’t notice it for a month, and trudged the rougher scree that tried to throw me off balance. Imagine my delight one evening, in the slanting rays, to find an easier way. And it was always…

  • Heard

    Anxiety is finally taking a back seat. Feels like years that she’s been driving me around. But now I have a home — Habibi of the Sea. And time and space to write. A publisher contacted me recently. She’s interested in Letters to Lulu, the epistolary novella I penned in 2013, the same year I evacuated…

  • Hilary

    My mother did not evacuate New Orleans before Katrina hit and the levees failed. She hunkered down in the first floor bathtub. She had cleared out — unnecessarily, in hindsight — many times before, she explained, so she decided to stay. “River of misery,” she saw afterwards. Followed by “river of joy,” the following Mardi…

  • Breathe

    “When the ball comes fast — breathe.” This I heard in a San Diego park, near tennis courts, and recognized the instructor’s good advice. The balls are coming fast these days in this noisy marina on the Sea of Cortez: contracts to sign, settlement statements to question, stolen credit card numbers to report, a fallen…

  • Come Sail Away

    Sometimes it takes a long time to get back to all right. Been ten years since I exited Olympia and began looking for a home by the sea. Took awhile to realize I could choose a boat instead of a house. Today I wired a 10% deposit on Habibi and contacted a marine surveyor to…

  • Habibi

    Beginning at the Berkeley marina, I drive south for days, seeking out sailboats and surfing when I can: Santa Cruz, Morro Bay, Santa Barbara, Oxnard, Long Beach, Newport, Dana Point, Oceanside, San Diego. Cross the border into México and check out San Felipe, Bahía Tortugas, Santa Rosalia. Spend an afternoon and night at Playa El…