I ascend the sandy hill, flip flops in hand, dressed in my favorite black leggings and a t-shirt. I love the feel of the soft sand between my toes. I can't see the ocean yet, but I can hear wave after wave crashing onto the shore. I reach the top of the hill and I see the breathtakingly beautiful blue ocean stretching as far as I can see out in front of me, to my left, to my right.
I pause, set my flip flops down, and simply stand there for a moment, and take it all in before descending the hill. I walk as close to the water as possible. It is high tide, so powerful waves crash and soak my leggings straight through. But I don't mind. The wet sand sticks to my wet toes as I walk further and further. Time passes, but I hardly notice.
Later, I change into my swimsuit and head down to the water. We measure the temperature, 63 degrees, but that is not going to stop me. I dive in headfirst. My whole body immediately starts to shake, but soon I am used to the cold. As the waves come toward me, suddenly I'm not a 25 year old with a full time job, a load of cares, and responsibilities. The nagging worries that are always in the back of my mind about what the future will or will not hold all but disappear. Instead, it's as if I've gone back in time and I'm an 8 year old again, clinging tightly to the hand of my mom, my dad, or my grandpa as someone yells, "JUMP IT!" or "DIVE IT!" as each wave approaches. I'm doing front flips and back flips into the waves with my sisters and cousins. We are singing whatever the most popular song on the radio was that summer at the top of our lungs, without a bit of regard or concern for whoever might be listening.
Then, we retreat back onto the beach and sink down in our chairs, feeling the best kind of exhausted from paddling out into the ocean and fighting against the under toe. We talk, we read, or we simply stare out onto the seemingly never ending horizon. That evening, we visit the nearby sand dunes, climbing hill after hill to watch the sun set over the sound. As we sit there taking in the view, I am filled with gratitude for the Creator of the vast ocean, this beautiful sound, this remarkable sunset, and every grain of sand upon which we sit. I think of how he must have known of the indescribable peace these places would bring. And that is why it feels like home.
I pause, set my flip flops down, and simply stand there for a moment, and take it all in before descending the hill. I walk as close to the water as possible. It is high tide, so powerful waves crash and soak my leggings straight through. But I don't mind. The wet sand sticks to my wet toes as I walk further and further. Time passes, but I hardly notice.
Later, I change into my swimsuit and head down to the water. We measure the temperature, 63 degrees, but that is not going to stop me. I dive in headfirst. My whole body immediately starts to shake, but soon I am used to the cold. As the waves come toward me, suddenly I'm not a 25 year old with a full time job, a load of cares, and responsibilities. The nagging worries that are always in the back of my mind about what the future will or will not hold all but disappear. Instead, it's as if I've gone back in time and I'm an 8 year old again, clinging tightly to the hand of my mom, my dad, or my grandpa as someone yells, "JUMP IT!" or "DIVE IT!" as each wave approaches. I'm doing front flips and back flips into the waves with my sisters and cousins. We are singing whatever the most popular song on the radio was that summer at the top of our lungs, without a bit of regard or concern for whoever might be listening.
Then, we retreat back onto the beach and sink down in our chairs, feeling the best kind of exhausted from paddling out into the ocean and fighting against the under toe. We talk, we read, or we simply stare out onto the seemingly never ending horizon. That evening, we visit the nearby sand dunes, climbing hill after hill to watch the sun set over the sound. As we sit there taking in the view, I am filled with gratitude for the Creator of the vast ocean, this beautiful sound, this remarkable sunset, and every grain of sand upon which we sit. I think of how he must have known of the indescribable peace these places would bring. And that is why it feels like home.
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