Though it was another character who initially sent me to this beach, it was Alex--a character who had unexpectedly insinuated himself into the story without any apparent help from me--who seemed most often to be in my head once I began to come here regularly. Walking the shoreline to the cove and stopping to watch the waves crashing against the rocks forged a solid connection between this place and my tale, because, home again, when Alex needed an analogy for stability, what came to mind was the wave-battered landmark I'd become so familiar with.

The rock our family has come to know as Alex's rock. "There was this beach I used to go to..." he says to Tracy when she questions her ability to handle what her future may bring. "There's this rock formation out into the surf. Big rock. The waves wash over it all day, non-stop, just this constant pounding. But the rock never moves, no matter how many waves crash against it."

Tracy isn't convinced. "They'll wear it down eventually," she says.

"They'll smooth the edges a little," he responds. "But it'll still be standing there, breaking every wave."

A wave fills the space between two upright rocks with foamy water. This is the passage between the rocks that Tracy sees in her mind and focuses on as she awaits her moment in the final chapter. Even my sons have remarked that this formation reminds them of a gateway, or doorway, to somewhere else--to another kind of place or dimension.

Water rushes into the cove, leaping over rocks as it advances. Seeing
this as her signal, Tracy lets go of the hands that steady her and steps forward.

Alex, too, pictures the beach at this moment, but a different part of it. He imagines himself sitting on a broad sand bank, looking out at the curling waves. The sky he sees, I think, would have been much like this one--a close, muted ceiling. Below it, the muffled breaking of the waves seems almost like the ocean breathing. And then a pause breaks the rhythm.

End beach tour. Thanks for coming along!