Wednesday, October 29, 2008

The Beach

****I wrote this on Monday while at still at the beach. This morning, we packed up our things and headed home - I wish we had come home yesterday! I didn't want to change what I wrote on Monday, so here it is.****

I am sitting on the balcony of our timeshare condo at Ormond Beach, Florida, listening to the constant roar of the ocean. I look out and watch the waves rolling in and breaking on the sandy beach. It’s a clear, sunny day. The ocean is reflecting the blue of the sky, and a cool breeze makes me want to move my chair out into the sunshine where it’s warmer. It’s a beautiful day.

The beach – it used to hold me in its grasp, and I felt like I couldn’t survive unless I made my way to the ocean a few times each year. As a young woman, I found strength and peace on the seashore, and our summer vacations to the shore were therapeutic and healing for me. When we would take our vacations, it would almost always include a beach somewhere, either near Mama and Daddy’s house in Clearwater, or at a beach cottage along the North Carolina shore. Never much of a sunbather, I’d spend my time walking along the water’s edge collecting shells, playing in the sand with the boys, body surfing, and simply sitting and gazing at the water.

I realize on this trip to the beach that it no longer holds the power over me that it once had. I’ve been here two days, and am already thinking about going home. The constant roar of the waves is not soothing to me as it once was – it is becoming irritating and monotonous. I miss the sounds of the birds singing, the whisper of the wind blowing through the pine trees surrounding our house, the mooing of the cows in Mr. Ernest’s pasture, and the faraway whistle of the train passing through Social Circle. Instead of soothing as it once was, the sounds o f the ocean are somehow intrusive to my senses now, and block out other sounds that I know are out there.

It’s not that I don’t like the beach. I feel the greatness of God and sense the vastness of creation when I am walking on the beach. I enjoy watching the sandpipers at play and interrupting the seagull conventions as I walk. I love to feel the wind in my face. I still look for shells to pick up, and watch for jellyfish to avoid stepping on. My beach walks are invigorating and stimulating, and very refreshing. It’s just different somehow than it used to be.

I think what has happened is that I don’t need the beach or the ocean anymore. I’ve moved on in my life, and over the years have learned many lessons about myself. I am thankful that the beach was always here for me when I needed it, and that it gave me the strength and courage that was missing from my life at the time. But today, while sitting here, I long for a quiet path to walk, to listen to the sounds of a running stream, the chirping of birds, and the song of rustling leaves from a passing breeze.

Things certainly have changed for me. I’m ready to go home.

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