I'm not the creepy guy lurking around; I was here first!
A couple days after Thanksgiving, I strolled alone in the pre-dawn light, on Maine's southern coast. I'd already taken a number of photos over the prior few days. I was wandering along the beach before finally finding an area in which the water of the outgoing tide was still just deep enough to reflect the sun once it crested the horizon. Plus, the large rock in the middle of a tidal pool might catch the soft glow of the early light or reflect off the water.
Liking this spot, I sat on a boulder, waiting patiently for the sun to make its appearance. Just a few people scattered themselves up and down the beach, mostly alone and giving each other their space. But, I noticed one couple gradually moving closer. Eventually, I realized our paths would cross, and worried it would impede my photo.
However, when the couple reached the water seeping seaward from that small tidal pool, they paused. I stopped lining up my photo on my iPhone, instead studying them through the screen.
The man let go of the woman's hand and looked at the water a moment. He picked his route, tiptoed quickly and delicately across, and turned back to face her. She hesitated, and turned to look at the ocean as if contemplating whether to enjoy it on opposite sides of the receding tidal pool. That's when I snapped a photo.
She then followed his path, where he waited to again hold her hand. Reunited, they resumed their casual journey down the beach. His finding a safe route across and to waiting patiently for her, her trust in following, and their holding hands all were small acts. But they also were insights into their relationship: a couple in love, each better because of the other; willing to help and to trust. In its own brief way, it was a much more intimate and beautiful moment than the sunrise that quickly followed.