into the depths

Oh, how I long for the ocean.  The smell of the salt air, the unrelenting roar of the waves as they roll in on the sand, and the piercing cries of the gulls.  I can conjure the images as clearly in my mind now as if I were standing there with my toes digging into the warm sand.  My dreary Ohio days make me long for the warm sultry nights in the south with an icy cold beverage in hand.  I am sitting with only the glow of my computer at my home in Ohio, but mentally I am walking a beach on a warm evening, kicking through the soft sand.  My feet sink slightly with each step to feel the cooler sand beneath.  The breeze blows my hair and cools my body after the sticky heat of the day.  My skin radiates heat after the hours of incessant sunlight beating down on my fair skin.  I basked in it, even worshiped it, and it was worth every minute. 

I wander down the beach to where the sand is packed tightly to form a sturdier walking surface.  The sand is moist from ages of tides rising and falling on this very place.  I walk with my face down surveying the sand before me, hoping to find some hint of a natural treasure that I will tuck away to memorialize this lovely evening.  Water ripples up to moisten the sand beside me.  I have come to the place where the ocean meets the land.  The powerful waves are louder now, and the breeze with it’s misty dampness, fills my ears.  The sound is enough to drown out almost any other sound.  The wetness touches my toes as I stand there.  It washes in and over my feet and back out toward the great expanse.  The water is cool and rushes quickly with the fizzing sound of foam and bubbles as it saturates the dry sand.  The surge rushes back out with such force that the sand under my feet moves and feels as if it is also being sucked out into the darkness of the water.  I begin to feel the pull of the tides on my own feet and legs.  I feel myself being swallowed by these foamy surges and slipping out into the darkness.  The gurgling of rushing water is around me, the feeling of the cold liquid consuming me, engulfing me until I completely slip away.

The cry of a lonely seagull brings me back.  I tread out of the knee-deep water and back to the packed, dry sand where I sit wrapping my arms around my knees to wipe away the droplets left on my skin.  The sun is completely gone now.  I sit looking out into the increasing blackness of night.  The crescent moon and a lonely star are the only visible markers of where the water ends and the sky begins.  Several boats visible by only the tiny lights on their silhouettes skim swiftly along the horizon, returning from an evening sunset cruise or a day of fishing.  I watch them pass silently then stand up.  Brushing the sand from my hands and pants, I trudge on to make the return journey to where I began.  I think of this journey as I bring my pace to a steady clip and I begin to hear familiar sounds: humming, ticking, clicking, whirring.  My awareness shifts, and I am back at my computer in my home.  It is nighttime in Ohio.