Because the ocean calls to me. It soothes my middle-American soul and the roar of the waves silences the never ending chatter that is my mind. I could sit on a beach forever. In any season. Snuggled up with a blanket watching the mist and fog. Or laying out feeling the warmth of the sun. The sound. The sight. The smell. I can never get enough.
The munchkins and I road tripped to Stinson Beach a couple weekends ago. Long drive. Lots of "are we there yets." But we finally got there.
I grew up on the lake, but a part of me belongs to the ocean. My Midwestern self used to equate palm trees and the ocean with vacation, and now those trees line the street where I live. The beach is a little farther, but still just a drive away. I still marvel at how far we've come (geographically) and what once felt like vacation is now part of my every day world.
Full disclosure, the kiddos do not share my love of the beach. They wanted the sand continually rinsed off of them. And J1 asked if next time we could just go to the pool. But sand aside, they did seem to enjoy being chased by crashing waves. J2 ran up the beach yelling at people, like a little town crier, warning them that "the waves are coming, the waves are coming!"
