The Sea

the grains push against my bare feet. the wind blows off the sea and rustles my long hair. my dress brushes along the ground behind me. my eyes stare up at the sky, my hands slowly raising up. and i smile. smile because i'm here. smile because i made to the ocean. smile because i'm alive, and God is so amazing. i smile.

I don't remember much of the sea. I remember walking by the shore, scared that if I touched the ocean, a shark would come and eat my legs off. I remember staring into the waves, watching people being swept off, riding on inter-tubes and just swimming. I remember seeing things and creatures on the beach. I remember the grains of sand in my shoes.

But I don't remember what it's really like.

We have shells from the beach. Lots of shells. You can take a shell, hold it up to your ear, and you can hear the murmur of the sea. That has always fascinated me. I've always gone through the shells. My favorites were the white ones with the pink. Or just the pink. Mostly because that used to be my favorite color.

I rather wish I could go back to the ocean. I hope by then that I have a laptop. I would love to sit by the sea, hear the waves crashing on the shore, and imagine something that flows through my fingers and onto the page. I could close my eyes and imagine that I was right in my book. I can just imagine it. It would be awesome.

Have you ever been to the sea? To the ocean? By sand? What was it like? What was your experience? What was your favorite part? Did you collect shells? What was it like to hear the waves crashing against the shore? I can always imagine it, but it's not quite the same.

waves crashing against the shore

just wishing; wishing for more

hand on a shell, whispers in my ears

feeling courage taking care of my fears