If I could leave my heart anywhere. . .
. . . I would leave it at the beach.
There is something so special to me about it.
. . . I would leave it at the beach.
There is something so special to me about it.
Maybe because I practically lived there during the Summer as a child.
Me. 1985.
Enjoying every minute, while my sister,
Mary Beth (background), looks bored out of her mind.
Our days at the beach were long. Lunches were packed.
And inbetween swimming and boogie boarding,
sand castles were built and sand crabs
were scooped up into our tiny little hands.
We would often stay until the sun dipped into the ocean's edge,
and my mom would begin to corral her four sandy children
into her volvo wagon, and we would head for home.
into her volvo wagon, and we would head for home.
Later, in high school, the beach became more about
spending time with friends than it was about family.
My girlfriends and I would go as often as possible.
We would hitch a ride from whoever would take us.
Our parents. My brother.
Our parents. My brother.
And when we couldn't find a ride, we would take the bus.
Our mission was simple: to get a great tan and to find cute boys.
Typical high school girl stuff.
We hung out by the Huntington Beach pier, a place to see and be seen.
We attended world surf competitions with the hopes of
getting autographs and pictures with our dreamy crushes.
While my girlfriends swooned over the likes of Kelly Slater and Bruce Irons,
I was more of a Rob Machado kind of girl.
He just looked like he had a good personality.
And I had some weird attraction to a white-boy afro.
(I know my girlfriends are giggling about this right now.)
This is him when he is quite a bit older.
But look at those blue eyes & dreamy locks! Haha.
(Still kinda crushin' on him. Guilty as charged!)
Every Summer my friend Carrie's parents would
rent the same Newport Beach house and were so
kind to allow Carrie to invite her 10 best girlfriends.
How they dealt with all of us under one roof
is something that amazes me to this day.
If there was ever a time when you said, "Those were the days..."
This was that time.
Us. Newport Beach. 29th Street and Heaven. 1998.
They were times that we will never forget.
And even though a lot has changed between then and now,
it is something we reminisce about often.
As I've gotten older, the beach experience has changed, yet again.
It's not about building sand castles,
catching sand crabs, or
going to see and be seen.
It's about the simple love for the ocean.
And sometimes, when no one is able to join me,
I take that trip to the coast on my own.
And I am so thankful for it.
There is something especially peaceful about
being alone on the beach. . .
. . . the salty mist in the air,
and the warm, grainy sand at my feet.
The sound of nothing but ocean waves crashing on the shore,
and the muffled sounds of children playing off in the distance.
The warm sun like a blanket across my skin.
The soft glowing light on the other side of closed eyelids.
Wild hair. And even wilder daydreams.
Sometimes I fall asleep. . .
. . .and I can hear my heartbeat in rhythm with the rumbling of the waves.
And all is right with the world.
It's just me, and the beach, and nothing else.
And it is one of the best feelings I know.
