The mystery of vacant chairs, the wonders of how far away, the mayhem of departing and arriving, the worries of enough time, the magic of the ocean, the wisdom of the sea. Three empty chairs facing the Provincetown Blue, waters of the Bay, ships sailing horizontal to the shore with some seeking shelter in a rollicking white headed wave furiously pushing against the shore, only to find its way back to the beach. So many opportunities to stop the motion of time, a white picket fence, a sand bar left ashore as the tide meanders further and farther, ships anchored as the sea begs for each buoy to bounce just hard enough to release its treasure…wait, not yet..soon…
The mystery of three chairs facing forward, the horizon ahead is that far enough to wish for, or once conquered is the next setting sun the place to be, and can this continue without ever any closure? Does hope need a conclusion? Does imagination ever seem fulfilled? Do expectations need a picket fence, a sand bar, an anchor? We watch the three chairs and maybe wish we were returning from riding the tide, from dancing in the sand, from blissfully befuddled by just how big the universe can be, and just how much space we should, would or could consume.
Three blue chairs, singing a tune from Beauty and the Beast, “…be our guest…”
And if we sit upon those chairs dreaming, delirious with the joys of life, is this our fist time longing to return to the place where the water and the sand meet, or have we sat upon those chairs that when we return it is like coming home. For Joe and I, this is an easy quiz…Provincetown feels like home. Day Seven
