Standing on the shoreline gazing out over the dark blue water of the Atlantic ocean I am humbled by its infinite distance. My feet are perfectly numbed by the frigid water and I only dare venture out to my knees for fear of freezing even though the temperature around me is eighty five degrees. I gently dig my toes into the sand that was created millions of years ago and wonder if it might be the first time in thousands of years that it has seen the sunlight?
The soft breeze whispers a song and the smell of the salty air invades my senses. The ocean and its soothing winds command respect for at any moment they can turn the perfect day into a treacherous affair. I’ve seen it . . . I’ve seen it at its best and felt its fury at its worst, but then again,I wouldn’t expect anything less from a formidable friend.
I could no more live a great distance from the unpredictable Atlantic than I could touch the sun, but lying on the beach I feel as though the sun has searched me out and found me. Yes, the sun has warmed me as well as scorched me, but again, it was my negligence that brought it about. The squawking gull floats in circles above my head continuously scoping the landscape for a quick meal or discarded snack.
And at night, when I lay my head down to embrace the sleep that arrives with darkness, I can hear the waves as they crash upon the shore and roll over the ever changing dunes of sand like a mother’s lullaby. I vow to return and attempt your water, knowing all to well I’ll fail . . . and sleep comes once again.