I’m a woman of routines.
Every morning while in Hawaii, I got up and did yoga while the sun rose over the water just outside the window.
Then I’d take my coffee out onto the beach where I’d watch the crabs do their work.
© Tracy Abell 2011
The crabs would sneak out of their holes with an armful of sand and scuttle away to toss it.
And then back down into the hole for more sand.
Some were a couple feet away but others were just inches from my feet,
and I delighted in their sci-fi features.
At one point I spotted some crabs farther off on the beach
and began watching them through my powerful birding binoculars.
These crabs were huge!
Could they be the crabs creating the large holes and the big piles of sand?
The crabs I’d never seen?
As I watched, one ginormous crab stopped next to a massive stick
and I lowered the binoculars to locate that stick on the beach so I could
witness the huge crab with my bare eyes.
It was not a massive stick but a small twig.
And it wasn’t a gigantic crab; it was one just like the others moving around next to my toes.
The binoculars tricked me.
I laughed at myself and then watched through the binoculars some more
while The Crab That Ate Honolulu stomped around the beach.
You should’ve been there.