the cure

Everyone knows I am lucky enough to call the beach home. I spend every summer on an island in the middle (okay maybe not the middle but it's surrounded by water for goodness' sake) of the Atlantic and I spent every winter on that same island up until this year and every day, if I wanted, I could drive down the road and park on a little gravel alley and walk right up to the ocean.

When things are getting rough, there are tons of ways to make you feel better. Some people like to nap, some people like to eat, some people like to watch a funny movie or cry their eyes out or eat chocolate or take a bubble bath or read a book or listen to music or go out with friends or go for a run or something. 

But I've found through careful experimentation that the one thing that, without fail, will cure all of your ailments and solve all of your problems — at least temporarily — is the ocean. 

That's where I go, when I'm at my wits end, when everything seems like it might collapse, when I have too much to do or work was too stressful or I'm fighting with someone I care about or I'm just in one of those moods. 

I drive home from work and follow the road that winds along the front row of beach houses, or I sit in the sand and stare at the waves, or I dive in the water and let the waves carry me back and forth, or I lay on a towel and soak in the hot sun. I can spend a whole day on the beach when I really need to. I'll neglect all of my responsibilities for one day. 

Because it's medicinal. 

Because it's therapeutic. It's calming. It's freeing. 

Because the ocean so much bigger than all of us and all of our problems put together. Because nothing seems so important when we remember how tiny we are compared to the ocean. Because if the world can create something as incredible as the ocean, there is no way we can't be capable of solving such silly little problems. Because how can the little qualms we have with life compare to this massive power right in front of us?

I miss home.