I’m thinkin’ the cliche’ “fish out of water” describes me much of the time these days. I long for the ocean. Every single day, I sit quietly, looking at the beach pic on my desktop and wait until I “hear” the waves rolling, rolling and then fading into cool bubbles that surround my ankles.
I was born on the beach. At six weeks of age, I was in the sand with my mother. Maybe it’s a homing thing. I’m a pigeon in search of my place of origin. Maybe it’s just this frickin’ hot summer in Arkansas. High humidity, but no relief.
Sometimes, I ask myself if it’s too much to ask to live in a little house – or even a condo with a large patio – right on the ocean. I long to sleep with only double screen doors between me and the mighty waves. My mind seeks the squawks of seagulls, the little scutters of sandpipers, taste of salt on my lips, and the feel of deep, white sand between my toes . . . toning my lower body as I walk the place where water meets the land.
Fresh crabs for dinner. A tan which reveals my Cajun heritage. Writing from my laptop while perched on a tall chair at my patio’s table. Breeze in my hair, peace filling my soul, words filling my pages.
Is it too much to ask these things? They are simple – yet pricey. Condos/cottages on the ocean aren’t cheap. That is one hindrance which keeps me from chasing this dream. Another stop sign is that my family (children and parents) is nowhere near the beaches I so desperately desire.
During last year’s vacation to the beach, I slept part of the evening on a lounge chair outdoors. A storm approached and slowly misted my clothing. It eventually drenched me in the cold rain. I stayed in place, taking in the storm’s unique scent. Even wet and in the darkness and alone, I paused before finally stepping back indoors.
Reluctantly, I stay put in Arkansas. I still dream, though. I still wonder if this dream is a possibility. I work toward graduation from a nursing program.
Even coastal towns need nurses, right? 😉