I didn’t see the ocean for the first time until I was 23 years old. I had always known something was missing from my life. Until I saw the ocean, I didn’t know what it was. Suddenly, I knew. It doesn’t matter what ocean. Any of the oceans. As long as I can see that big body of water with no end, I’m at home.
I was born in a landlocked state and was never around water much, except the smallest of ponds and lakes, until I went to the ocean the first time. I could try to explain why the ocean makes me feel at home but I wouldn’t be successful. There are lots of things I cannot explain through the spoken word. There are very few things I cannot explain through the written word. This is one of them.
But let me try to jot down a few of my thoughts. The ocean makes me feel that, no matter what happens, life goes on. It represents infinity to me and that is comforting. Not that my own life is infinite, but that life itself is infinite. In what have been the darkest times of my life, I have craved the ocean, going to the ocean, sitting by the ocean, submerging myself in the ocean, hearing the ocean’s waves crashing against the rocks, even just looking at the ocean. It soothes me if I’m upset. It gives me hope for the future.
Maybe the explanation is very simple. I believe we all originated from the ocean. Maybe going to the ocean really is going home to me. Maybe it just soothes my soul. #DiscoverWP #amwriting #amblogging #writing
The Write Scribe 
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