I haven’t been to the ocean lately. For quite some time really. I haven’t walked along a sandy beach ~ white, yellow, black, fine-grained, pebbled or big rocked. I haven’t heard the waves ~ crashing huge and foamy or lapping blueish green ripples. I live very near the big ocean, always have. East coast, west coast, Alaskan coast. Oceans, their watery vastness close, nearby, barely a stone or two or three’s throw from my window, depending on one’s throwing ability. And yet, I have not been to the ocean lately.
No wonder I find myself exhausted, unreplenished, fighting off or today more like barely staving off a head cold. Today, I am pretending that I am walking along the ocean’s shore on a sunny day with high clouds and a steady breeze against my skin. I wear sturdy shoes to navigate the pebbled and big stoned surface. My eyes take in the life-filled tidepools that I kneel to gaze into. My jeaned knee dampened by the moist sand. As I continue down the beach, I remind myself to breathe deeply of the salty tangy beach air and to exhale out my worries. My mind wanders to the picnic lunch that awaits me on my return ~ soft Cambazola blue-veined cheese to smear on the crusty soft bread, smoked baby oysters ~ ahh, my stomach responds with a small grumble. I smile and continue putting one foot in front of the other on my ocean walk.