Dear Universe,
Everyone needs a place.
A place where you can go to escape, even for an hour. A place that distracts you from your troubles. A place that immediately comforts you.
Over the years I’ve had many places. There was my grandparents’ house. I remember one time showing up completely disheveled in my pajamas, eyes puffy from crying. I walked in, barely said hello, and headed straight for their couch to lie down.
And they let me. The only question they asked was if I wanted to stay for dinner.
Now that they’re gone, I miss that.
I also have my family and friends’ homes. I’m welcome anytime, can stay as long as I want and am surrounded by love. Plus, they make sure I don’t leave until I’m smiling again.
But there’s one place I keep going back to year after year: the beach. Anytime, anywhere—if there’s a beach, take me there.
If someone were to open up the trunk of my car they would see beach towels, a beach chair, a change of clothes, a bathing suit, sunscreen, magazines… I always want to be ready to land at the beach on a whim. The thing is I leave these things in my car year round. It’s as though I want to be reminded, even in the middle of a bitter New England winter, not to despair—that the beach is waiting for me. It’s right around the corner.
Something about breathing in the sea-salt air, digging my toes in the sand, a good book in one hand, an iced coffee in the other, can bring me a sense of relief in an instant. It doesn’t matter if I’m at my local beach or something more tropical like the flour-white sands of St. John or the black-sands of Santorini—the feeling is always the same.
Pure happiness. Pure peace.
It’s the same feeling I get whenever I’m traveling or simply in the company of the ones I love most.
Life can be a real…beach. It can be a lot of other things too, but sometimes—just sometimes, it can be as a delightful as a warm, sunny day on the beach. Or as comforting as your grandparents’ couch.
Everyone needs a place.
Thanks for letting me be lucky enough to have a few.
Much Gratitude,
A
