Bodysurfing all the way to Spring

Last week I was walking through a car park in Hurstville around sunset and I thought to myself, "weeks are a lot like waves." Sometimes you have big weeks, sometimes you have little ones. Sometimes a week will knock you over and try to drown you, and sometimes you'll barely notice a week has passed. Often you can see an important week coming the way you can see a large wave building on the horizon. The only constant is the rhythm, weeks come, they pass, the rush into shore and fade into nothing.

I guess this makes years like beaches. Every year has the same characteristics, just like all beaches share the same basic template. Every beach has a horizon and a shore. Every beach has waves. Sometimes it's pebbly and overcast and far from the city, sometimes the sparkle of the blue waters reflects on the glass facades of the hotels and resorts that tower over the shoreline.

Which I reckon, makes tides like seasons. Predictable and powerful, temperature goes up, temperature goes down, sun comes out, sun stays away. Water-level rises, water-level falls.

That, I believe, makes me like a starfish, because when I was fourteen I wrote a poem in Year 8 English about how I was like a starfish.

If weeks are waves and years are beaches and I'm a starfish then that must mean that birthdays are like the dioecious reproduction of non-asexual asteroidea, because its only once a year that we release gametes through gonoducts to fertilise the buoyant eggs.
If similes are like metaphors.

Today's Weather from Forster, NSW