Dear Ocean

Dear Ocean,

Your sudsy bubbling edges are such a part of my childhood. I loved the popping and fizzing sound the water would make as it rolled back into itself, and the way I sank deeper into the sand each time you came and went. I would get so deep it felt as if I had been there forever.

I was always just a little afraid of you. You were usually cold and shocking, and sometimes your salt would sting. I felt so grown up when I could charge into you with a great show of courage, even though I still held some of that early trepidation inside. My fears were understandable. You are, after all, a bit tempestuous.

Nowadays we have a more cordial relationship. I would call it a distant respect. I remain calm when you throw you edges out at me. I understand that it is both a greeting and a warning. I do not charge into you, disturbing you borders with a violent crash and a challenge to fight. We are comfortable with our boundaries.

I am grateful for your smell though. It brings me back so forcefully to peaceful times and happy memories. The ebb and flow of your water helps me to slow my breathing and center my sense of self.

For that you have not only my respect, but my gratitude.

Fondly,
Sara