We were a caravan of family walking through our cool tiled rooms daily with sandy feet. Every night the crashing waves would sing us to sleep, their soothing words whispering, "We are here, ever present & ever working for a higher noble purpose." The mornings were for sitting upon the great cold sand bluffs, bundled up with sweaters to watch the surf endlessly tumble in the wind. The kitchen coffee pot always being emptied or filled, with small coffee mugs forever littering the counter tops. Our pantry brimming with juices, crackers, nuts, little clementines & sandwich fixings: anything to grab lazily before heading out to the wide deck overlooking the shoreline. My sisters would bake the oatmeal in the oven, making the well-worn beach house smell nutritious. Their little ones searching the seaside with intent, teaching me the fierceness of emotion that comes with youth. How they loved & revered the powerful ocean; how I longed to feel as deeply as they did.
I will never forget when the six of us ran down the hard sand path to the sea while the house lay sleeping. The sky a cavern of darkness filled with little fiery stars. You took hold of me & we plunged into the icy water laughing loud & leaving the heaviness of the land behind. We felt the delicious sea salt air of that black night as we clung to each other roaring with life, the waves licking our legs. Dear sister, I felt our souls ache a little less in that moment. Our tired limbs knew the great relief of adventure well.