Ocean-ography

So. I grew up on California, though I’ve never been the bikini beach girl that most think of. But still, there is a connection to the ocean, one that is hard sometimes to express.

I love the ocean. It’s so… awe inspiring in the traditional sense of the word. The rythms settle my soul, allowing my lungs to expand and breathe in God’s love in the salty air. I love the rush of waves, the cry of the sea gulls… there’s nothing like it.

I especially love the type of beaches where you’re not really expected to go into the water. The foggy, lonely beach suits me just fine.  Or a picnic in the mist, sitting on a log, huddled up with friends and eating sandwiches.

One of my earliest memories of going to the beach is of me being on my older brother’s shoulders as he walked out into the surf. I remember being terrified– those waves were big! But his hands were strong on my legs, and he never teasingly tried to throw me in. No, he kept me firmly safe, never breaking the trust.

As a teen-ager, I loved Half Moon Bay State Park and Beach. It is (or was) one of those beaches that is lovely in it’s lonliness, where the rip tide is so bad that I was taken out while walking along the shore one time. Yeh, shocked me too. Wasn’t plannning on swimming that day 🙂 Many thanks to the fishermen who helped my friend get me back in– I’ve never been a strong swimmer.

Just in case you think I was a loner, soul searching on the beach, I should also point out that my friend and I (same one as above) used to also stand on top of the picnic tables, dancing to Def Lepard.

As a young grown up, I did have picnics on the beach with friends, sitting on a log, huddled up together for warmth. I also went to one bon-fire, where there was beer and shenanigins… But it wasn’t really my style.

As a married grown-up who had seen the wrong side of thirty, I learned to love Montery. Bri and I used to go all the time, walking along Fisherman’s warf, staying at Lover’s Point Inn and eating at the Old Bath House. Oh my, I loved it. Walking along a small patch of beach in the moon-light, leaving the window open to hear the sounds of surf… I loved it. I want to go back.

But now I have a new purpose. It’s almost time to introduce Ray to the beach. To being a Californian. Although, to be honest, we have a different relationship with the ocean than Southern California does, the ocean is still part of us. That surging, wild salt water runs in our veins.

I can’t wait.

Wyn

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