My Ocean

Lately I have been puzzling (and puzzling) over what I want to do with my life, what will make me happy and bring me joy. I guess it has taken me on one incredibly long trip down memory lane, trying to remember places and times in my life when I was happy, and reviving my dreams and goals.

For some reason the other night, I was reminded of the beach I used to visit back home, called Hendrick's Head. It was hands down my favorite beach, especially because all the tourists didn't know it existed. The ones who found it by chance were way too chicken brave the cold water and the rocky ocean bottom.

I loved the warm summer nights after an evening in town, when I would head out and watch the sunset while sitting on the rocks near the light house, walking barefoot in the sand, feeling every last bit of warmth in it.

I went there in love and anger, in confusion, in loss, and even in despair a time or two. The waves echoed my thoughts and soothed me. The hard surf always took my anger with the tide and left me with only peace.

It always amazed me that something as inexplicably mysterious as the ocean could help me figure out so much. It was the silence I needed to hear again and again.

Sometimes I ache for it, the way your body needs oxygen. In desperation I drive down to the Saint Mary's waterfront to see the sailboats and find some tiny piece of my heaven.

The water was a mystery
a gentle lapping
a raging storm
it held me inside itself
waiting to be discovered
unraveled

the sand in my toes
held the warmth of a dear friend
the wind in my hair
the life

it stretched on and on
as if forever
a me without limit
or end