It’s hard to understand, I know, but when you live by the ocean something happens. It becomes a reference point. Not really a directional reference point. Although, growing up in the Bay Area, my dad used to try to tell me things like, the bay will be on this side of you and then you will drive towards the ocean. Ha! It was never that kind of reference point for me. I have no sense of direction. But, it was always a thinking place. I can remember back all the way to Jr.High when my girlfriends and I would walk down to the beach and sit in the sand. We would talk about all the Jr.High drama in our lives.;) Sitting there next to the BIGness of the ocean, put life back in its place. It put me back in my place.
Then, I think along the way, the ocean became this place where I could mark the years. I remember my brother’s birthday party when he was little and got a crazy bad sunburn. I remember hauling all of our books down to the beach and pretending to study in college. I remember taking my babies for their first visits and sticking their chubby little toes in the salty water. Somewhere along the way, the ocean became this place that soaked up memories and stored them for me. So that now, as I drive up to the crest of a hill and spot the sparkly blue goodness, I gasp and well up with emotion. If I sit in the sand and fix my gaze on the sunny horizon, the ocean gladly unfolds a lifetime’s worth of snapshots with each coming wave. And, as I am presented with glimpses of myself, I am reminded of the choices I have made and the values that propelled them.
Next up: The story about how I embarrass myself in surfing lessons. Just kidding. Just more love of the ocean.