An answer that refused to be found

I am kneeling on the sand at Bondi Beach and sipping a soy latte. The first sight of the beach, from the sidewalk, was almost too overwhelming. "You're at Bondi", i told myself. "You're at Bondi, alone, and everything is going to be just fine. Things will go your way."

I see a little boy burying his dad in the sand. His mother, in her pale pink bikini stands up and i see, across her abdomen, the proudly displayed scar of a C-section.
People here seem comfortable with their bodies and this in turn makes me feel good about my own- my skin is brown and healthy, my legs are firm from all the walking i've done, the muscles on my back are strong from the laps at the pool.
I take pleasure in the way the wind blows the hem of my tiny skirt up (just a little!).

Now, i am sitting on the sand, watching teenaged girls walk past and listening to them make plans. Two men run in front of me. Two young boys grin at me and then proceed to throw sand at each other.

What can one do but laugh?

The more you think about things, the more absurd they become. For a while, nothing makes sense- like:
'What am i doing here?' or
'How does one find oneself?' or
'How to move on?'

And then you find yourself back on the sand, staing at the crashing waves in front of you. People run, surf, play frisbee, walk in the sand with their shoes in their hands.

No need to think. This is where you are.

"Have a beautiful day", he-with-the-blue-eyes says before taking off.
You smile as you realise that you are, in fact, having a beautiful day.

You want to cry as it dawns on you that things have never felt so right.