Sunday at Pirita Beach

Pühapäeva pärastlõunal keerasin Pirita poole, sest meri on mul alati see koht, kus pea saab klaariks.

On Sunday afternoon I headed toward Pirita, because the sea is always the place where my head clears.

Tuul oli vilu, ent päike soojendas juba nii, et viskasin tossud kotti ja lasin varvastel liiva sisse vajuda.

The wind was chilly, yet the sun warmed enough that I tossed my sneakers in the bag and let my toes sink into the sand.

Männivaigu lõhn segunes soolase pritsmega ja koos selle tuttava mühinaga taandus ka nädalane närvilisus, mis mind enne saatnud oli.

The scent of pine resin mixed with salty spray, and with that familiar roar the week's nervousness that had followed me earlier receded.

Kui olin mööda kaldajoont tatsanud hea tüki maad, märkas mind meie trepikoja vana naaber Maali, kes korjas vetikate vahelt mereklaasi.

After I had trudged a good distance along the shoreline, the elderly neighbor from our stairwell, Maali, spotted me, collecting sea glass from between the seaweed.

Tal lõi üle näo naeratus ja ta ütles, et kui juba randa tullakse, tuleb midagi ka koju viia, muidu meri solvub.

A smile spread across her face, and she said that if one comes to the beach, one must take something home as well, otherwise the sea gets offended.

Istusime madalale betoonkai servale, jagasime termosest teed, ja Maali rääkis, kuidas ta noorena käis samas rannas tantsupeo järel varbaid jahutamas.

We sat on the edge of a low concrete pier, shared tea from a thermos, and Maali told how in her youth she came to the same beach to cool her toes after the dance festival.

Kuigi kell tiksus peas nagu tüütu sääsk, ei olnud mul mingit tahtmist tagasi linna keerata, sest iga laine tõi kaasa uue katkestuse argimõtetesse.

Although a clock ticked in my head like an annoying mosquito, I had no desire to turn back to the city, because each wave brought a new interruption to everyday thoughts.

Siis tõstis tuul liival lendu ühe poisi nokkmütsi; ema tormas järele ja komistas, ning me hüppasime kahelt poolt ette, nii et müts jäi lõpuks minu pihku ja ema püsti.

Then the wind lifted a boy's cap into flight across the sand; his mother dashed after it and stumbled, and we jumped in from both sides so that the cap ended up in my palm and the mother back on her feet.

See tilluke päästeaktsioon tegi südame kummalisel moel kergemaks, nagu oleks meri meid omavahel tutvustanud.

That tiny rescue made my heart feel lighter in a strange way, as if the sea had introduced us to one another.

Lahkudes tõmbasin varbaga liiva sisse väikese noole, mis näitas vee poole, ja lubasin endale, et tulen järgmisel nädalal uuesti, olgu ilm milline tahes.

As I left, I drew a small arrow in the sand with my toe pointing toward the water, and promised myself I'd come again next week, whatever the weather.

Kui bussi peale kõmpisin, krabises taskus paar siledat klaasitükki, ja ma teadsin, et just sellistelt jalutuskäikudelt algavad need päevad, mil kõik läheb vaikselt õigesse rööpasse.

As I trudged to the bus, a couple of smooth glass pieces rustled in my pocket, and I knew that it’s exactly from walks like this that the days begin when everything quietly slips back on track.