I loved everything about being in Rockaway Beach, Oregon for a week. The houses; the ones that I had been meticulously cared for, battling against the elements of the harsh salty air.
I could even forgive the architectures for creating boxes. I could live in a box, even a shoe box if it’s on the ocean like this one.
Being on the beach is always filled with Joy. Seldom, if ever, do I witness negative behavior. Of course, being on the beach in the Sun does change the spirit of things, but true beach goers don’t let rain get them down.
The ocean is so rejuvenating. It’s time for play. To watch. To reminisce. To walk hand in hand with no purpose but to just be. To watch. To admire. The world is such a magical place and the beach is like the cherry on top of an amazing ephemeral Sundae.
I met a lot of people. I hadn’t seen a Rhodesian Ridgeback since my childhood when I used to do doggy care for a neighbor. So sweet; at least in my limited experience.
Being on the beach reminds me to just go with the flow. Ride the wave if I have to, though most of the time I ran away. I did walk in the water once, but it was far too cold for my comfort levels. Maybe next life I can come back as a Seagull or Gull and enjoy hanging out, though I don’t imagine it’s as easy life. Unfortunately, I witnessed the cruelty of life as well as the splendors.
I thought of a lot of metaphors for the beach. All of the pebbles and rocks on the beach reminded me of a large mattress. The Gods or Goddesses mattress. Do they even use buttons on mattresses these days?
The ocean reminds me that everything comes and goes. There’s always something new to see on the beach.
Things get battered and beaten in the ocean; some come out shiny and smooth after the experience. Some a bit chipped and banged up, but just as beautiful.
Every time I go the beach, I tell myself, and those around me who can stand to listen, I have to go back more often.