a thought too many

Waves

You know, when I was younger I used to love the ocean.

The cold air, the icy water crawling up to get me and the wet sand that tickled my toes as it sunk me in, the sun beaming down on me like she was nudging me on to have a good time.

I couldn't explain it then but there was something so wholesome about being there.

I felt...loved and free. I remember smiling, laughing, like anything was possible.

It was a place I could breathe, feel refreshed.

You know how when you stand on one spot of the beach for a while and you lose track of time, getting lost in the sound of the waves rushing towards you and you look up and it feels like you've moved further from where everyone else is or where you were standing just a minute ago, almost as if time stopped and you transported somehow...you don't leave the beach the same person you came there as, you leave it almost renewed.

Now, halfway to fifty and I got the chance to visit the ocean again.

Being there now is not like when I was a kid. Cause now, all I can see when I stare at the rolling waves heading towards me is all that could go wrong. When I walk across the sand, with every foot I sink deeper in my heart jumps a little in my chest. I don't run towards the water anymore, instead I let the baby waves come up to me, knowing how quickly they can gulp you up and pull you in. The air is crisp and nipping at my skin. I can feel the weight on my chest getting heavier as the noise of the ocean roars around me...I long for the kid me who didn't know the dangers of the beauty in front of me.

I wish I could meet her again: the confident, carefree, and driven me.

I lost her so many times throughout the years. I doubt she'd want to be found by this version of me.

Now, when I look at the ocean, I know that anything is possible and that scares the shit out of me.