Let the salt take you adrift. Succumb to the the tradewinds’ music and dance to the sway of the palms. Give your cares to the sun and allow it to mix colors with the sky, as it sinks slowly into the waves.
Rain slinked down the pane of glass, memorizing her attention. Lost in the tantalizing drops, she dreamed of what life along the Atlantic Coast would be like some far off day. With her eyes shut she reveled in the sunlight as her hair was thrown every which way from the salty air. Waves caused the hair on her bronzed arms to stand erect with the rhythmic melody they had created. A sense of content washed over her, bringing to her attention that she was finally where her soul could call home.
A place that made the storm inside finally calm, bringing tranquility with it. gazing she could see the lighthouse beckon to the boats off the shore, calling them home, just as it did for her. in her beautiful daydream she had finally made it to somewhere in the sun. Her eyes cracked open only to find the rain still falling. A smile broke on her face as a a result from knowing at heart she would eventually come to the place of peace, to forever reside in her salty daydream.
The sun may beat down and the sand may get everywhere, but this beats where I used to be. When I hear, “a bad day at the beach beats a good day at work,” I can’t help but smile in the honesty that line holds. In the past I wanted it all. All the money and everything it could buy. Now, I only want to be rich in experience.
All the money in the world couldn’t buy the experiences I have had. The people I’ve met, the connections I have made, can’t be bought with money. The seashells I have collected, the waves I have ridden, and the cares I have thrown to the tradewinds just make this all worth while.
Everyday I wake with the roaring of the ocean. Everyday I get to be where my souls feels at peace. I get to be where I can hear God speak to me. I get to be where he created me to be.
Tyranny and chaos heavily hung in the air. Strong-hearted and hard-headed opinions shattered all hope. Darkness swept through, destroying everything in its path. Each blow inflicted, lit the fire more and more, and as the embers roared, so did she. Finally, she couldn’t take a single moment of it any longer and in an instant she was off.
She simply went away. As far and as fast as she could. Life wasn’t going to get the best of her any longer. Now, as the tide rolls and the breeze blows, she can’t remember what her worry was about. All the chaos that ravaged her life, was now thrown into the salty breeze to be taken to some far off shore.
Sunlight danced along the tops of the waves as she stared aimlessly into the horizon. This place brought her to a world where worries didn’t matter, being in the moment, this moment, was the only thing that mattered.
So much natural beauty encased this enchanted beach. The sun rose and fell here at God’s command. The palms swayed rhythmically, and shaded all who needed. Tropical birds harmonized with the roaring ocean, cascading a peaceful, tranquil aura.
Opinions, craziness, political views didn’t matter here. This was a place to get away. Her way to get away.
I have sat here so many times before. I yearn to sit in the sand under his slouch and prudent stance. This palm, he knows more about me than I even know myself. He has seen more of me than I even knew was there. I can’t help but feel the need to sit in the sand under his swaying protection. I can remember each time I’ve shared with him. He has been my confidant and a place to sit and stare out at my constant. I revel in the moments where I enjoy his company and am able to feel the warm sand cascade over my legs as I carefully spill the grains from my pruned hands.
He and the ocean go hand in hand. Throughout all my emotional states, they are there through thick and thin. In uncommon phases, the ocean, she offers a place for me to exert my bottled energy and the palm, he offers me a place of healing solitude. Even in my wildest storms, she will allow me to tear myself up and he will give me a place to calm down. In most of my phases, she bestows me with the strength that God has given her. And he gives me a grounded God-fearing purpose.
As I continue to sit with my head resting on his trunk and my eyes fixated on her iridescent, pulsating waves I can only feel as if I am at the closest place to Heaven. I am at the place where God wants me to be.
Every crisp morning I race over the dunes to catch the first glimpse of light across the white sand. In the nick-of-time, I make it to the peak just as the light begins to cascade over the beach. I am always welcomed with the tradewinds; lightly twirling my hair in a dancing motion. Standing motionless, mesmerized by God’s subtle beauties plastered across the beach, I can only seem to feel calm and as if all of life’s troubles slip into the salty breeze.
My joints begin to break the frozen, simplicity of my enjoyment, to send me on my reasoning for coming down here this early in the first place. Not even two steps into my stroll to the waters edge, I spy my first treasure of the day. A small, ebony shell peeks up from the sand and as I bend down to retrieve this small trinket, my eye catches another one and another one. As I continue to bend, never standing fully erect as I move, more and more shells come into sight. Finally I have made my way to where the waves kiss the shore. The weight in my old, rusty bucket pulls slightly on my arm, causing my mouth to turn up in sweet satisfaction.
Every day I search and search for more shells to collect. And my goal for each day is to make it to the pier before my bucket overflows. In a fortunate win-lose situation, my bucket is full before I make it to the bony structure coming out of the ocean. Regardless, I make my way under the pier to examine each and every shell I scooped up for the day.
The sand under the pier is usually untouched at this time of day, making me feel as if this beach is mine and mine only. I spill my bucket over in childlike excitement, proudly reveling in the amount I have obtained. Each shell is different than the rest. Some may look the same but at further inspection each one has its own quirks. All are tumbled smooth from the pounding waves, but each one shows a different aspect of their endeavors. Although, they may have started out more rough and jagged, their journey to the shore left them smooth and soft. Finally when my inspections come to an end, I thank the Lord for the ability to enjoy the simplistic blessing the ocean and beach have to offer.
There is a place that God himself created for the laid back and the worn down. Whether it is along the coasts, on the islands, or even in the secluded lagoons, there is a place where only a special type of person can enjoy life to its fullest potentials. These places carry with it a little magic that gives its permanent and temporary inhabitants a sense of fulfillment with the world. Most people can never experience the wonders that this lifestyle carries with it, and to those I raise my glass in hopes that one day, while in the clouds, they’ll be able to experience these wonders they missed while on Earth.
A perfect explanation to this lifestyle cannot be relayed by message, only wondrously experienced, making these places so much more exhilarating and organic. Whenever I’m asked as to why I obsess over something such as a salty body of water, I can only describe it with a smile; it’s my way of life, the only way of life.
The crisp air stung my face as I walked along the well-used path. The moon was starting to give way to the sun, letting it take its shift. I mimicked a stealth agent as I walked across the rustling leaves, dodging the fallen branches, careful not to disturb anything. Finally arriving at the tall maple I began to ascend the ladder to my hidden blind. The sun finally gave way through the clouds touching the hills of the open meadow. An hour passed with anticipation getting the best of me, then the rustling of leaves and the grunting of my prey awoke the natural born predator inside me. As quickly as the noise came it had stopped. I frantically looked around knowing it was the monster I have been tracking all season. My eyes suddenly shot to the edge of the woods as the branches of a low lying tree snapped off.
In the meadow a mature doe stood breathing heavy and fast obviously worn down from the escape she made from the rut. I knew when her ears perked he was close. In the distance the view of ivory antlers came into sight, igniting my senses. He was finally into view, prancing broadside in my bow’s sights. His massive body matched his twenty-point rack. This particular rut-stricken buck has come into my trail cam’s memory for two years only to disappear like a ghost during the season.
Every hair on my body stood erect as the adrenaline coursed throughout my veins. My breathing became labored as I waited for the right chance to release my razor edged arrow. I allowed him to let out one last breath that vaporized in the crisp autumn air. A single bead of sweat escaped my pore to run down the edge of my tautly clenched jaw. I let my fingers relax from my waxed string, releasing the arrow to cut through the air. With one blink he jumped kicking the air as the blood escaped from the exit wound. With that, I knew death had taken over his body. With one last sprint he tried to run from his fate, but alas the blood loss got the best of him and he lied down in a stumble. A rush of victory overcame me as I knew I ended the King’s reign. When death had settled him I ran to his side to look at the trophy I had just claimed. Two years of hard work and perseverance had shown in the deer, making me, a woman, to harvest one of the largest bucks in the entire state.
Tears of joy sparkled in her mother’s eyes. It was almost time to open a new chapter of her life with the man she loved by her side. Beginning as a small spark, their love for one another kindled into a burning fire. Today was the day they took each other hand in hand vowing their lives to one another. She was dressed in a lace embellished gown that stopped itself short above her tanned knees. Jeweled barefoot sandals were the only thing that outlined her feet. In her sun kissed curls hung a small blue beret that held up a cascading veil, which lied itself around her broad feminine shoulders and continued to the small of her back. With just the right intricacies, the hand sewn veil let her elegant simplicity shine through.
She stood in front of the open window, letting the salty air sweep over her. She turned gazing at herself in the mirror, she could see a strong beautiful young woman staring back. The bountiful sunlight that streamed through the curtains gave her features an almost iridescent appeal. Lost in a wonderful daydream she almost didn’t hear her mother telling her it was time. The sun began to set turning the sky all sort of crimsons and oranges with a touch of peach hues. Stepping outside, anticipation came over her body, making her want to sprint to the alter. When the alter came into sight her ocean blue eyes met with his golden-green, hazel eyes. She could see, even from afar, the genuine love that he had for her. He let the sight of her wash over him like a summer rain. He had never seen her so beautiful in all of their years together. After what had seemed like a life time for the both of them, she made it to the shell encrusted alter with grace and poise. They happily announced their, “I do’s,” and let their lips come together in a celebratory manner. They pulled away from one another and let vibrant smiles come across their faces. .
Blissfully she sat at the edge of the bow letting the sun’s rays penetrate her skin. She reveled in the warmth moving her head from side to side making sure it hit every inch. Her well tanned skin and the Atlantic sun have agreed on terms since they have come in contact for a few years now. Although sometimes the sun will break contract letting the sting of summer settle just at the top of her round cheeks and accenting the crest of her nose. Stinging cheeks and a tourist-like nose didn’t put a damper to her gentle rocking as the waves contacted the porcelain like sides of the boat. They were always trying their hardest to reach the hand-painted words that read, “The Salt Life Writer.”
Reminiscing on the day she proudly painted those words, she couldn’t help but crack a vibrant smile. So much success beamed from the simplicity of those four words. She began to believe that her sea legs have become a permanent asset to her body. She embraced the past years as many seconds, minutes, hours, and days seemed to fly by right in front of her ocean blue eyes while residing on this vessel. Memories of competitive fishing among friends, many island drinks sloshed here and there on well used deck, and even the more professional use of the office space that accompanied a hammock for a desk-chair and a typewriter for the equipment, ran through her mind causing a whirlwind of simplistic happiness to overcome her body.
An investment some people called it, she referred to it as a way of life. Well-needed naps, cleansing, healing moments that soothed the soul, moments filled with laughter and love among friends and family, and the bringing together of man and sea were embedded into the core of this boat. This boat acted as if its genetic makeup wouldn’t allow for anything else but blissful simplicity and some salty tears to be shed. Blessed was a word she used often when boasting about her floating vessel. Life on a boat was something to be cherished and hopefully never forgotten.