Thursday, March 01, 2012
On Sunday night of our trip, after our half day at Sea World and our yummy linner at Ruby's Diner we headed to the ocean. Of course, I complained because I wasn't happy with the beach Ross selected - mostly because I had to use the bathroom and all they had were a bunch of port-o-toilets. But, when a girls gotta go, she's gotta go. I picked the one whose door was flung open, figuring that it would be the least stinky, being aired out and all. The experience was a bit traumatic, as all experiences in bright blue chemical toilet coffin's can be but I survived. And, my survival was met by a beautiful message scrolled at my eye level on the door.
"Jesus loves you!" it said. That was nice. Especially on a Sunday. A Sunday I chose not to attend church in a foreign state.
Anyway, the beach ended up being just perfect for the four of us. It was sunset. It was cold. The little Chickadee was terrified of the water and the sand and the seagulls, and the kelp and the other people. One of his parents was holding him the entire 40 minutes we stared out and watched the sunset.
The other child however, the 5 year old was completely enamored by the ocean - he always has been. He got as close to stripping down and jumping in as we'd let him...which was just a quick roll of the pant legs and jacket sleeves. He cavorted. He giggled. He splashed. He got knocked over. He had maybe the best time of the whole trip - except for when he saw Shamu.
Yes, there is something magical about the ocean isn't there? The sounds, the smell, the sense of calm it can bring to your inner soul with the high tide waves crashing in and rolling out. One day, I'm determined to spend some time in a house where the only sounds I hear all day long are the sounds of those waves crashing.
Until then, I'll just play the ocean button on my alarm clock that makes nature sounds.