My unfiltered thoughts about everything.
Written long hand in my notebook on July 17th, 2013.
Let me encapsulate a moment for you. Picture the stunning panorama of Daytona Beach, from the shore looking out. I’m savoring the solitude, facing the Atlantic Ocean from the foot of my lounge chair. It seems to be three pm every time I remember to check a clock, and when it isn’t, the sun will be on its way down, telling me its time to get dressed and head to dinner. Until then, I can rest in the realization that I have no appointments to keep, no pressing conversation to endure, just the healing here and now, perfect in its simplicity.
The family is here as well. They’ve come out in droves this time. It’s our yearly pilgrimage to an aging, Coppertone scented resort in Volusia County, a place where the bulk of my favorite childhood memories still come alive. The trees, the buildings, even the cracks in the sidewalks hold significance for me. There is no sadness here, just the abundant chorus of joyful noise in the distance. Here, you can be as you are. Some people are here for the pool. Some come for the food. I come here to lose my identity…..so I can get it back.
There’s nothing to do but thrive inside the moment, take in the majestic expanse of the sea. What a lady she is! Her horizon seems endless, though intellect dictates, despite the grand illusion, that she is not. She’s been described in all manner of reverence by artists and poets alike. Hemingway painted her with brave, manly strokes. Brian Wilson made her a profitable muse, selling her calm appeal as the cure for teenage blues. The Bible draws her as both a stately metaphor and, more times than not, the consequence of human unrighteousness. Whatever you see the ocean as, a word that does it something like justice would be renewing. And its why I’ll never stop making time for her.
If ever a natural resource worked better as signification for rebirth, I haven’t seen it. There’s tourists of every nationality and back ground setting up camp for their one week a year out of the cubicle, hoping to make some memories outside the confines of their daily grind. We all share that communal need to get away from thinking, to let the water sort us out. And you can see the cleansing power of the salty air in evidence if you just pay attention. The cynical, emotionally spent among us are tempted to manage a smile when the sun sits a certain way, and the waters right on the cusp of our toes. Our tired souls breathe easier when the tinge of salt in the breeze caresses our skin, that beautiful, lingering, mild sting of summer. The ocean is our reprieve. For others, its where love bloomed, where it blooms still. It’s where the lack of anything else to be or do made time for hearts to find one another.
For me now, its something to rest in, to feel at home with. For years, she’s been a constant in my life, a place I go to get my dose of sanity back. And its not something I intend to change up. You can have your high dollar getaway, your big city night clubs. Give me the sea breeze, the tan lines and the overpriced ice cream. If I could ordain the nature of Heaven, this would not be far off.
Here’s to renewal.