smelt sands, yachats oregon
When trying to choose a word for today, I opened my dictionary to “O” and started making a list: ordinary, origami, orange, origin, only, old, observe, obsession, object, obstruction, occupy, odd, offering, okay, Oliver, Om, open, one, openhearted, Oregon, ocean…
Ocean. As soon I wrote it down, I knew it was the right word. My heart did a little flutter, “yes.” Having grown up an hour and a half from the coast of Oregon, I spent a lot of time there, playing in the sand and water, walking up and down beaches collecting shells, sitting in a lawn chair with my toes in the sand and reading a book, stuffing myself full of seafood and saltwater taffy, roasting marshmallows and hotdogs on a bonfire built in the sand, and falling asleep to the sound of the waves. Living in Colorado, as much as I adore it here, I miss the ocean.
There is a feeling I get, standing at the edge, bubbles of seawater tickling my feet, looking out on to the horizon, hearing the waves, feeling the spray, that’s like being in church (or a bookstore or library). I feel utterly in love, vibrating with it, simultaneously chilled and warmed. My heart opens and my chest fills with the sound of the water, the waves moving in and out, my heartbeat and breathing echoing that rhythm. I don’t need to be anywhere else. I feel at ease and at peace. The ocean is a divine and precious thing.
