A perfect silence amidst the crashing roar and tumble of the waves. A breeze and a clouded umbrella, a perfect day at the beach for me. The seagulls swoop. The sandpipers trot. The cormorant float. To me, a heaven on earth. A peace and a comfort fill me. Restored as if back home again.
I once thought everyone felt this way until I met my husband who dreds water like the wicked witch of the west, who I don’t think put on a pair of shorts until our fifth year of marriage (mind you we rented a beach cottage every summer), and who would be happy to never touch or see an ocean in his life. To me this is incomprehensible.
At funerals we say “dust to dust” but for me it should be “from water, to water” as they sprinkle me among the waves.