Oyster Bay is a small coastal village at the end of a dirt road. One of the nicest things that can happen in a year is when you feel the Oyster Bay road under your wheels again and you know Oyster Bay is just over the hill. Coming from the Transvaal, it smells like perfume of pure desire. Only later, when you have finished packing and walking along the sea, do you once again moan about ‘the road and what will they do about it’.
Oyster Bay is small and quiet and most Oyster Bayers come here because they can process the peace and quiet. You walk along low tide for long periods and lose yourself in old, old thoughts and dreams. Fish that got away, past calves’ love and dreams for the year ahead. It is easy to be courageous and know again here, everything is just under control, everything is just right, it was just the city riot that sometimes forces you to the wrong West side.
There is something magical in the glider of a gull, the sly traversing of the shores and dolphins quietly patrolling. Things that are so simple in simplicity … A small round pebble that is picked up and hatched in the pants pocket. Later one wonders why the pebble now looks different and realizes that the eye sometimes looks more beautiful than other times.
Oyster Bay’s people greet each other in passing, like family. It’s actually weird because few places can be seen. People today are taught to avoid eye contact so that crooks keep their distance. With some luck we keep the preciousness for a while.