The first time I stepped foot in the Pacific Ocean was on the shore of Nicaragua when I was fifteen. It was a deep, deep blue, and there were red ants on the sand. My mother was very anxious about us kids wading in further than shin deep. When a wave knocked my father’s glasses off, we were told to evacuate at once.
It fascinates me that the ocean is where people go for rest and relaxation, for fun and play. Because, well, the ocean is incredibly dangerous! Perhaps daring ourselves to be in proximity to that danger is part of that rest and part of that play? Because being in proximity to that danger (to those mysterious unknown depths) is life-affirming, isn’t it?
When’s your next day at the beach?
