The sand is white and soft, almost like talcum powder, cool to the feet even on the hottest days, because it’s ground quartz, which had worked its way south, centuries ago, from glacial deposits. The beach is wide and the sand is deep but near the water it is packed down and ideal for walking.

As I get underway, gulls are squawking and terns are nagging each other relentlessly. Pelicans drop from the sky to scoop fish. A white crane stands in the surf up to its backward knees. When a breeze blows his fine, long feathers, he looks like an old man in need of a haircut. Dainty sandpipers scurry in, and then out of the surf just in the nick of time, never getting swept off their feet. I am completely swept off mine however, as I walk along the Gulf of Mexico on Siesta Key, one of my favorite vacation spots.

The beach is rated one of the top in the world and whenever I spot dolphins I spin to the top of mine. Early in the morning and late in the day, dolphins come close enough to shore to be seen. As soon as I catch a glimpse of one or more, I change the direction I’m going if necessary, and alter my pace to keep abreast of them. Some people dance with wolves; I walk with dolphins. Once when there were five or six of them in only five feet of water, I threw off my sandals and waded into the surf to swim with them. “Look at that lady out there swimming among the dolphins” someone remarked. My husband was ready with a reply, “that’s no lady, that’s my wife.” 

Another time, I saw two of them jump completely out of the water and straight up into the air. What a performance! On this particular day, other people were walking the beach and some noticed the dolphins and seemed to enjoy the sight, but others were wrapped in conversations they could have anywhere. One man was on his cell phone discussing a $50,000 deal he was about to make. What will he do with the $50,000, I wondered. Wouldn’t it be a good choice to stay near a world-famous beach and get to witness dolphins in the wild? But he was blind to it all.

Later that day, I’m on the beach again, and marvel at the beauty of the sand at the water’s edge, as smooth and shimmering as silk, as the waves retreat and reveal the reflection of the sunset in shades of pink. If I walk along at just the right angle, I can witness this again and again, like a game of peek-a-boo, as the waves rush in and out. When I point this out to a woman passing by, I feel she is just humoring me when she says, “Yes, it’s pretty.”

I think back to when I was in St. Thomas and a van driver was taking us back to the airport along a mountain road. Dense, lush foliage careened down the cliffs to a sparkling bay far below, dotted with cruise ships. When I glanced to my fellow passengers expecting to share awe and admiration, I found two men engrossed in conversation about the stock market and their wives discussing nursery schools and shopping malls. One of the men finally glanced out the window and when he spotted the boats, he began describing a cruise ship he had been on with a simulated rock wall where you could pretend to be mountain climbing. “But here is the mountain!” I wanted to shout, and one of the top ten views in the world, not according to me, but according to National Geographic.

Forgiveness came to me finally, when I remembered standing in front of the Mona Lisa at the Louvre with my friend who is an art history professor. Yes, I was in awe to be gazing at this famous work of art that had been so talked about and seen by so many for such a long time, but I knew I could never begin to fathom the beauty of it to the extent that my friend could. When I attended an opera or the ballet with my developmentally disabled son who was often moved to tears by the performances, while I very often nodded off, I realize that despite his handicap, he was somehow more cultured than I am. And so, I’ve decided to be thankful for the things that I do have an eye for, and not condemning of those who do not.