The Beach and I

Call me a landlubber, but the ocean scares me.

Jared says this wave is small. I disagree.


Maybe it’s because I grew up in Colorado—it doesn’t get much more landlocked than that. The largest body of water near where I grew up was Windsor Lake, which is maybe—generously—a mile in diameter. I didn’t even see an ocean until I was nearly four years old and we took a family trip to San Francisco, and I definitely didn’t set foot in one until I was seven.

At that time, I was too young to appreciate just how vast an ocean could be. Sure, all you could see on the horizon was water and sky, but turn the other way and there’s good solid land.

Jared as the master of all he surveys.

But now we’re visiting the beach—Rehoboth Beach in Delaware, to be precise—and this ocean is alive. It crashes, growls, roars, and howls, like noises in a swound. It sends out its tentacles of water gently, trying to persuade you to enter the water, and then sends another wave to crash right on top of you. Just looking at the ocean while standing safely on the beach makes me wonder how any human could be brave or foolhardy enough to try to conquer the ocean.

Good vanishing point, huh?

So for now I will simply be that rarest of human beings—the sort who, while visiting the beach, writes blog posts instead of sunbathing. But I will include pictures so you can enjoy it vicariously!

THIS is the sort of solid ground I'm in to.
THIS is the sort of solid ground I’m in to.

PS: I know that courage is a virtue. And so I will try to overcome fear and cultivate courage today. So far, I’ve made it in the ocean to be pounded by the crashing waves—so it’s not all blogging around here!