I didn’t think I’d make it this year; my schedule is booked (overbooked, really, but that’s always temporary). Ever since I swapped peninsulas (Michigan for Florida) eight years ago, my brother, sisters, and I have converged at a family condo during the second week in April. This year I didn’t make it down until the day after my brother had left. Bummer! I miss him. I miss the teasing and laughter, the reminiscing, and catching up with each other.
Still, I’d made it. I needed the break. It was worth it. As I crossed the bridge late at night, I immediately felt my shoulders relax. The lights from the hotels on the beach glowed against the dark expanse of the horizon, and I felt tension blow away in the cool evening air. Arriving so late at night, when I had always made this trip during late morning, offered a fresh scene that immediately reset my attitude. The next morning on the beach, the rest of my weariness dissolved.
At our beach chairs, the thrum of the ocean and the emerald waters mesmerize me within seconds. The rhythm of the waves, flowing ashore and then retreating in a tireless succession, resets my emotions. The sun warms my skin until I cannot take a minute more of its intensity. Then the breeze blows in with the surf to cool me. The sun glares down again, its heat sinking deep down until it reaches my soul. I soak it in, storing it all.
This solar charge refills what had been nearly depleted. It is enough to last the next few weeks of a hectic pace. And then I’ll refill and recharge again. But next year–next year I’ll make it to this beach sooner.