Bruce and I had been to Florida before, spending a few days in Miami when we came back from our cruise that we took shortly after we were married. I was not a big fan of Miami. It's okay, but just a really big city that is very very different from home. That in and of itself is not a bad thing, but it was just a little hard to get used to.
So, when we decided that Orlando, Florida, would be our vacation destination, thanks primarily to low airfare (in comparison to other locations, etc.), I was a smidgeon skeptical. I didn't want to like Florida. I did, however, want to be able to take Allison to DIsney World and the beach and see the ocean, and at least be able to say we've been there.
Unfortunately, Allison was not feeling well the day we went to Disney, and it was terribly hot. We did not necessarily have a good time, and I don't necessarily see us going back there. SeaWorld the next day, thank goodness, was a different experience. We all seemed to really enjoy SeaWorld. Nick hotel was fun, too. We were also able to experience some Florida very early history, and that's always fun for Bruce.
On the second to the last evening of our vacation, when we were able to get a beachfront facing hotel room at Daytona Beach, that seemed to be the crowning experience for us. There is something very...cool (how's that for a low class word?).
I went out this morning with a beach chair and found a place on the beach not too far from the water, and wanted to read for awhile. It ended up that I didn't read a word; for one thing because the sun was too bright (I don't have sunglasses since I have gone from contact lenses back to glasses); and the second reason because itw as so beautiful I just wanted to experience the scene.
As I sat there taking it all in, all I kept thinking was that the ocean and beaches are where poets and writers are born. So many senses are brought out by the beach. Your eyes take in the beauty of the water, waves, sun, clouds, nature, and such; you feel the sun, the wind, the sand squishing around the toes and water coming over the feet and up the legs; hear the waves crashing, birds singsing and making their identifying calls, the ice cream truck, the kids playing, the folks strolling along the beach together; taste the everso slight salty spray, or, undoubtedly, the crunchy sandy grit that inadvertently gets into the mouth; and probably even some type of smell, whether it just be the freshness of the day.
The wind was enough that there were rolling waves, coming one after another, getting smaller as they make it closer to the shoreline, finishing the journey with rolling little ripples, until it flattens out, smoothing over the sand, making it flat and new appearing, fixing all the imperfections of the sandy beachfront. The sand, another story. All I could keep thinking about as I pushed my toes into the sand, squishing it between my toes, running it over the tops of my feet, was back to my experiences teaching kindergarten when we made goop. Goop is an equal mixture of corn starch and water. When thoroughly mixed one questions whether it is a liquid or a solid;it looks solid untl you pick it up and then it runs through your fingers, setting back up as a solid. This is just what the sand that has water running over it does.
The ocean is complex. There is something very soothing and peaceful and even serene about it, even when windy and waves; but it is the same wind and waves that also makes it powerful and at times angry, pulling at those that do not stand strong enough or who wander too far into it. It is something to be respected.
The ocean, and the beach, are where poets and writers are born.
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment