I grew up by the ocean, in a small town near Ocean City, MD. I was so close to the beach that I could smell its saltiness on summer days while playing in my front yard. I could feel the dampness in the air and in the way my hair roots would thicken and frizz after spending a short time chasing butterflies and blowing dandelions. On my lucky days, my mother would be off from work and take me for a fascinating trip to the beach, or my aunt would come over with my little cousins in tow and be ready to drive us down to Ocean City to jump some waves until we tired out hours later. I didn’t take a bunch of trips to Disney Land as a kid but going to the beach was my local fancy amusement park vacay (Ocean City literally has a small amusement park, lol). Running in the sand, building tall sandcastles, chasing the waves but being careful to not go too far out in the water, eating ice cream and fluffy funnel cakes on the benches as we watched the birds soar, laughing in the sun until our bellies hurt, and just being carefree. What a time!
Even on days that in the spring and summer when I wasn’t on the beach, I was outside, playing in the vast field that separated our house from my great aunts’ next door, helping my grandmother plant and care for her harvest of her garden, smelling the sweet pink and red roses that she planted in front of our house, and reading under my favorite tree in our front yard, or sitting on the front steps with Grandma snapping peas as the sun set and she told me a story about the good ole days. Those are moments are deep, unforgettable memories of my childhood that are savory—too good to forget like my favorite dish or song.
As I got older, I felt even more connected to earth. In my early adult years, I became drawn to spending as much time on the beach as I could. When I would go home for summers, I would go to the ocean and tell her all of my troubles, talk to God, take a long stroll at the shore and leave my trail of footprints in the damp sand, and read while listening to the sound of the beach. The experience was and still is magical and divine! Whenever I leave the beach, I feel lighter, calmer, and closer to God. Though I don’t currently live near the water, I still depend heavily on nature to help ground me. Whether it’s a walk in the park with my daughter, a hike, or stroll in the neighborhood--time in nature is essential to me finding solace and being my best self.
I wrote By the Ocean to honor how much of a blessing it is to bask in the presence of God’s art—the breeze, the splash of the waves, the creativity of the trees in autumn, gardens blossoming in spring, peachy sunrises on summer mornings. I penned it with hopes that others will take more time to be still and find peace and healing in nature's offerings, and I pray that it serves its purpose.
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