I recently was doing a little reorganizing in my home and I came upon a box of old photos that I had taken years ago, back in the days when pictures were on film and not stored behind glass screens on our phones. And I had to chuckle a bit, because I found a stacks of photos of the beach which featured picture after picture of the waves rolling in.
It was one of the first times I had seen the ocean. And let me tell you, this girl from small- town Nebraska was in an absolute state of awe (which is one of the perks of growing up in a small town surrounded by prairies and sandhills. Every kind of natural terrain that one discovered after that, is usually one of heart stopping wonder). Anyway, watching the massive horizon moving and rolling towards me as far as the eye could see was a moment I will never forget.
Years later, I would find myself living overseas on the Persian Gulf.
I will tell you that I’ve walked this beach in all seasons; watching the waves crash during winter seasons, feeling an odd loss as they withdrew during the low tides, and marveling at the way the moon reflected on that moving darkness. I’ve laughed with dear friends at these waters' edges, built sandcastles with my children, agonized and celebrated over my life’s choices, walked hand in hand with my husband and grieved the loss of my mother.
Much like the waves
again and again it all returns.
Have you ever played in the ocean? I would love to hear your stories! Drop me a line: peagreenboat@mtpr.org
