I'm not really a beach person. I never have been. I grew up an hour from the gulf coast and can count the number of times I went during the summer on one hand. Minus one finger.
I never liked sand. Or sun. Or heat. Or saltwater. I certainly am not a fan of crowds, drunk men or noise.
I never liked the beach. Not until now.
So, it's October. My favorite month of the year (after December). And we decided to spend a few days at the ocean because it was the cheapest vacation we could think of and just far enough away to seem like a real trip.
We arrived at two a.m. and opened the balcony doors and my life changed.
Salty air, the crash of waves. I just sat down for a minute and tried to take it all in. I felt like God created those sounds and smells just for me. They were a special kind of grace for my life. My crazy life. And I just got to sit there and breathe. Maybe for the first time in a long time.
I had planned to work while I was there. I wasn't going to write a complete novel, but I was definitely going to work on a couple. But my computer stayed in my bag and the cord never got plugged in. I just took it all in. I laughed like I haven't in a long time. I acted silly and ate too much fried seafood and enjoyed myself.
And now it's over and I am stuck somewhere between missing it and being glad to be home. I opened my latest manuscript today and found new inspiration and new perspective. Sometimes stepping away from something is the very best thing you can do.
Just take a step back, shut the stupid computer and breathe. That's my perscription, anyway.