It’s really foggy here today. I can see the end of the dock but not much else out there. The whole world looks like a down pillow from my window.
As Eva and I walked the beach this morning, a curious seal poked her head out of the water to watch. Thanks to the fog and the tide, she was really close, perhaps just 30 feet away. She followed, popping up to see us every 15 seconds or so. Seals never get this close. In fact, Eva has never noticed seals following us until today.
I was standing in the sand at the rounded, low-tide beach right at the point of Sandy Point. Looking back into the neighborhood, with the fog surrounding the brightly painted little homes, was like looking into a snow globe that we ourselves live in. Fog is cool.
Eva raced ahead, pretending to chase a rabbit while really looking for a stick for me to throw. I squatted down to look at the seal from her vantage point. I was a little impressed with myself for thinking of this. Aqua Woman, talking to seals, that’s me.
My actions caused Eva to come running back to the point and look out toward the black waters of the foggy sea with her head tilted into living question mark like a proper Aussie. When the gray seal slipped back up out of the ocean, this time just 20 feet away, I was startled. But Eva’s mouth dropped wide in wonder. Her whole body wiggled. She bounced forward, giddy, into the dark water, until she was chest deep, to meet her new friend. She’d never seen a seal before.
The fog was hindering our vision. The water was ominous and black at that really deep corner where two tides collide and dig in. But Eva wasn’t scared. She was certain that she’d found somebody new to play with. In that moment she trusted her gut, her intuition, the seal’s body language, and maybe, my body language. She sprinted back and around the beach, looking for a stick to share, then bounded back in, hoping for a connection and holding a piece of long seaweed—the closest thing to a stick she could find—in her mouth as a play offering. This time the seal decided to go play with her less brave companions farther out in the water. Eva didn’t take offense. She just kept on walking and enjoying the beach.
I was less impressed with my own seal greeting abilities after watching Eva’s. I’m going to start honing my own intuition, work on trusting my gut, and on recognizing body language I can trust implicitly. Fog and darkness and difference don’t necessarily mean danger. Sometimes they arrive to help you stand at a turning point, mouth open in wonder. Or to meet a brand new soul mate. Next time, I want to greet mine smiling, curious, friendly, and chest deep in their world, not my own. Like my own personal superhero, Aqua Dog Eva.
