I’ve been trying to decide who I wanted to write my first love letter to, and early yesterday morning while I watched the bight, golden sun rise over you on a clear, crisp spring morning I decided it would be you – the ocean.
Thank you for both calming and terrifying me. Much like people, you come and go. Can be calm and wild. Seem so well-known, yet so much left to discover. You come in various shades of blue and green. Holding memories, secrets, and stories – some never to be shared and some so powerful they write books and movies. You can give so much, and take just as quickly. You are universal. Your breaking waves will always be white, your taste will always be salty, and although sometimes you may seem undervalued, mistreated, and misunderstood – you are always there.
“Because there’s nothing more beautiful than the way the ocean refuses to stop kissing the shoreline, no matter how many times it’s sent away.” -Sarah Kay
I love that you remind me of home, whether I’m in Massachusetts where you are old and familiar or when I am gazing out at you in Byron Bay, Australia half way around the world. Some of my favorite memories are due to the fact that I spent a majority of my childhood growing up in a small beach town splashing in your waves, digging as far as I possibly could in your sand. I’ve admired countless sunsets, and almost half as many sunrises. I’ve spent many nights getting drunk, on both alcohol and words, in your presence. You’ve made me feel afraid and so incredibly free. You’ve calmed me in moments of mental chaos and you’ve inspired me in more ways than one. You’re moody like me – you silently understand. A force to be reckoned with.
There is so much I could say, but to conclude this love note from a small beach town girl to the sea, no matter how far I may wander I will always find my way back to you and I will cherish the clarity and peace you give me always.
Until I see you again –