As I have gotten older my infatuation with the beach has grown as it has a grip on me that I really can’t explain. 

Many prefer spending their time at a backyard pool because they don’t have to deal with crowds and sand and can walk a few feet to use their own bathroom. All good points.  However to me there is nothing like early morning on the beach when the sand has just been groomed and your feet might be among the first to make the walk from the boardwalk to the shoreline.  Actually I like to be the very first on my beach but usually surfers beat me to it.

There is something very peaceful about the first hour or so when you stare at the ocean as the sun is rising for the day.  The heat has not built yet and if you’re lucky there is a nice breeze blowing from basically any direction but the west.  Birds make for a nice backdrop as surfers and paddle boarders dot the ocean in search of waves that will bring them close to shore. 

At times I take in the entire scene and it’s almost cathartic because I realize there are only so many of these days over the course of a year and in truth a lifetime.

Take for example this past weekend which was about as perfect as you’ll get on the beach in mid-July.  I was talking with what I call a “beach friend.”  That’s someone you really only see during the weeks between Memorial Day and Labor Day and often you don’t even know their name.  However you greet one another warmly and sometimes engage in meaningless conversation that involves what else but the beach. 

This weekend we talked about just how perfect some days are: warm and clean water, low tide at the right time of day, a nice breeze and kids having fun.  “This is why we suffer in January & February because it doesn’t get much better than this” I said and he agreed. 

We all need a happy place and I’m glad I’ve found mine.