A couple decades ago we parked the car. Opening the door, the rolling rumble called to me with the whip of the wind. Sea Gulls squacked with nuisance. The smell of salt and exposed algea assaulted by nostrils.
Making my way over the last sandy hill scattered with long grass, boulders, and tough flowers, the edge of North America welcomed me.
My heart was lost.
My soul settled watching the wave crest and break onto the beach. Out beyond the white caps my eyes took in the vastness of the beautiful grey-green waters. Peace spread through me as I looked even farther beyond, where the sky merged with the horizon and became one with the ocean.
From the earliest moment I could remember, of all the towns and cities we'd ever lived, I knew I wasn't home. And trust me, we lived a lot of places. None of them called to me.
This place didn't just call, it sung. I'd never touched toe to sand before, yet knew it was the place I belonged. I will never live to far away and will always be comforted in this part of the world.
Even as this is posting the family and I are reconnecting with the ocean and enjoying our time on the beach. I hope everyone has the opportunity to find their place in the world and has the maturity to appreciate it.