The Sea

I am so lucky to have grown up next to the ocean. I remember being small and walking on the beach with my father - the beach, my father, were so large, they were my whole world. Later, when I was a bit older, I remember spending hours in the ocean, learning to jump the waves and body surf. I remember eating picnics and having to wait an hour before going back in the water.

In high school, my friends and I would spend hours sitting on the rocks while the waves crashed around us. We drank beer and talked about all that was happening our lives then and all that we hoped for the future And we laughed, oh, we laughed. 

Years later came the day when my father couldn’t walk on the beach with me any more. When he died, my sisters and I spread his ashes on the same part of the beach where we had had our picnics and learned to swim.  

The power of the ocean has stayed with me my whole life.  It’s the place I go to to think, the place I go to celebrate, the place I go to grieve. When I am near the ocean, I am reminded of the life that happened next to the pull of the tide, and I feel the love of the people who were with me in those moments.

This past weekend, I got back to the beach for the first time this summer. There is something so magical about the first visit to the beach, that beautiful instant when you first arrive.  You see the magic of the sun lighting up the ocean. You feel with warmth of the sand between your toes. You smell the sea.  You get the same warm happy feeling you get when you are reunited with someone you love.

And, like seeing someone you love, you can’t wait to experience everything with them. So I played with my daughter in the freezing cold ocean. We eat sandwiches with gritty bits of sand mixed in with each bite. I taught E how to make drip sandcastles, pretty much the most relaxing activity you can find on earth. I took a walk by the water. I sat on the shore and watched boats on the horizon.

Best of all, I got to lay on a blanket, close my eyes, and listen to the sounds that were all around me.   The chatter of conversations, crying babies, kids screaming, laughter. What I really heard in that restful moment, what lived louder for me than anything, was the gentle rhythm of the ocean waves hitting the shore.  Each crashing wave reminded me of the times by the ocean. Of the people I love yet don't get to see any more. Of the goodness that happens when you can still your heart and mind and let the crash of the wave come over you, settle you, make you whole.