The beach cottage we rented smelled musty and as we unloaded our suitcases, all I wanted to do was walk to the water. Mom loaded the fridge with items from the cooler and I nagged and begged to go down to the surf.
We didn't take time to put on our suits and Daddy drove us down in the gold truck.
We stayed as the sky and sun produced their brilliant light show and it grew dark. But the waves never stopped and moon shone on the water, like a flashlight from above.
The next day we made our way to the water, carrying towels and toys and snacks as we walked along the main road, sand on the sidewalk.
My flips flops smacked the back of my heels faster than usual and when I heard the surf they sped up even more.
Daddy and I ran out into the water and each wave that slapped my back reminded me of how much I loved it there. Out of the water I dug my toes in the sand, finding shells and burying my feet. I tasted the salt and felt the push and pull of this place that I would grow to adore.
My child heart found love for this place early, so much time spent in the sand, in the sun, in the place right on the edge of my earth. I could see forever...
I never wanted to leave.
But of course, we had to. However, we always made our way back.
To the place that spoke to me.
I only hope it will speak to my children too...
I think perhaps it already does...