The ocean is where I hold my heart.
Coming from recently divorced parents, not witnessing any compassion between them growing up, and beginning the big D word myself last summer from my own marriage of three years at age 24, I thought finding love and passion, even well into the future, was on the brink of impossible.
Almost immediately after I started that transition, I found the ocean again after nearly five years spent out of its embrace. After a couple salty tears, I didn’t even realize that I was beginning to forge a deeper love than I’ve ever felt; it dug at my bones and my soul felt alive, and every time I left the beach I was fulfilled, happy, and no matter what happened during the day I felt at peace. Sometimes we argue, sometimes I have to be patient, and sometimes she checks me and I come up nearly breathless with a face and hairful of sand, but the quality time I get to spend in the sea every day makes that fire burn long and deep. I feel like the luckiest person in the world to be doing what I love surrounded by people I love, and I don’t take those cool Pacific waters for granted, and thank her every day for giving me blissful, unconditional, pure joy.
