I stand on the tip of West Egg and I can see what James Gatz saw while he gazed at the hopeful green light that illuminated the night sky over East Egg. It is July, and I am at a party, an exquisite party. I am merely a guest at this house. Unknown, like many others. Nameless, I bask in the frivolity and gluttony of this extravaganza. There are fireworks, coming from everywhere. So much so, that I don’t know in which direction to look. Some couples huddle in dark corners searching for privacy, others are dancing to the pleasing mixture of the orchestra and notes of laughter. It’s beautiful here. A slice of heaven on earth.
“I got one!” I am awakened from my daydream by the happy shouts of children who have found success in their hunt for crabs.
“Awesome!” I reply as I hurry over to check out what’s in the bucket. Oh yes, crabbing was a success, and F. Scott Fitzgerald would have to wait for another time.
A daydream it was, brought on by the spectacular surroundings that I found myself in on Sunday.
Point Judith, Rhode Island. “A village on the coast of Narragansett Bay.” I visited very special friends who have a summer home in Point Judith. Bordered by state beaches that are wonderfully maintained, the home we visited sits at the end of Beach Row, and boasts views of the glistening ocean from every one of its windows. The ferry to Block Island passes right by our deck and we greeted the waving passengers on their way for a visit.
It is old-fashioned fun, walking to the dock and, with butterflies in your stomach, jumping blindly into the murky green water of the harbor. Or even better, battling the mighty waves of the Atlantic as they crash against you, taking your breath away. Growing up near the ocean has always been something that I have appreciated, and days like this remind me of just how lucky I am.
I do believe, though – once in a while – everyone should daydream.