My favorite place is the beach and has been since that first visit in 1965.
Dad took us to Florida on family vacations almost every year. We also had the pleasure of visiting places like Gettysburg and Hershey, the New England states, the 1964 New York World’s Fair, Niagara Falls, and Washington, D.C. several times.
I developed a love of traveling early on, thanks to these excursions. I was invited to Philadelphia by my cousins and told that we would visit Betsy Ross’ house and the Liberty Bell among others. I couldn’t wait to pack my bags!
Not one to shy away from the next great adventure, I never got homesick. My Dad, who often talked about his own homesickness when he joined the Navy, fondly dubbed me his “little gypsy.”
While I thoroughly enjoy seeing new places there’s something magical about the space where the ocean meets the land. The warm sand, brilliant sunshine, and sounds of crashing waves are soothing to my soul.
As a child, I was amazed by the fact that those waves never stopped breaking on the shoreline. I recall one Christmas my mom got each of us a personalized beach towel for our upcoming trip to Florida. It got me to thinking and visualizing that stretch of sand that we returned to each year. Knowing that the tides rose and fell faithfully during my absence was amazing. It never stopped!
The constancy of this marvel of nature isn’t lost on me even today. Aside from the beauty that this setting provides it also offers a strong connection to my past; a past that slips farther away with the passing years.
When I sit on the beach today, I close my eyes and am quickly transported back to an easier time, where the most stressful things I had to deal with were multiplication tables and fights with my brother.
A sense of calm penetrates my skin along with the hot sun and warms my heart. I relax and remember, grateful to visit that favorite place once again.