The Pull of the Ocean!
I still remember the first time I saw the ocean.
I was 12 years old and had traveled with my best friend Billy and his mother and father.
It was liberating not to have the Aunt & Uncle who raised me with us (I know they appreciated the break also).
It took my breath away as we climbed the final hill and there it was, stretching out to infinity from the shores of Florida.
We stayed in a room at a quaint hotel about 3 blocks from the ocean.
Then down to the beach we went.
After a great afternoon we returned for our evening meal and then everyone went to sleep.
The temperature was very pleasant and we had all the windows open; a gentle, refreshing breeze was blowing.
About 2 in the morning, I heard it.
The pounding of the surf: kaboom! followed by swoosh as the surf ran back into the ocean.
Over and over again – it was calling me, pulling me – resistance was futile.
Without a word, I quietly opened the door, walked quietly down the wooden steps, looked back to memorize the building for my return, and walked the three blocks to the ocean.
I didn’t see anyone until I got to the beach.
There was just a few people there, all teenagers and young adults, walking and talking.
I wiggled my toes in the water and played tag with the incoming and outgoing water; I sat and watched the surf, mesmerized.
While it was only a few hours, it felt as if time had been suspended.
Finally, I returned to where we were staying and quietly opened the door and slid under the covers.
It was a once in a lifetime experience, to be 12 and to be alone on the beach.
At breakfast, I made the mistake of telling Billy’s parents what I did that night – they went ballistic!
P.S. Note to self: some experiences should not be shared with adults!