Morning on the Beach
We were mesmerized by the beach that morning. How can we be 70 years old and been on so many, many beaches but have this one be so new, so fresh. The warm sun from the east and cool breeze from the west have been felt before but this experience never grows old.
What strikes us is the flatness – the way the waves start far from the beach and continue to move, move gently further and further onto the sand, getting our feet wet. A wave starts to break and the crest moves up and down the beach, another right after it, another and another. We laugh at the wonder that they never stop coming even though we understand the nature of the tides and waves. We had this same conversation ever so long ago about the Betsy River’s endless flow to Lake Michigan – never stopping.
There is a solitude that we feel, each moving on then reconnecting. Maybe it comes from the mist rising up the distant hills, the quiet, the vastness, the blue ocean that goes on forever until it merges with the blue sky. Maybe it is the water molecules of our bodies merging with the water molecules of the sea. We are at peace, but aware of the ocean’s might, its power and strength.
We feel a sense of discovery, seeing things not seen before. We marvel and question, but have enough experience to venture answers. Excitement and awe co-mingle with the solitude.