Sticking Close To Home

The salt water has been washed out of our hair.  Sand was shaken out of the sand toys and bags and shoes.  Beach towels washed, folded neatly and put away, as we whispered softly “see you next season.”  We have officially run the travel bug dry, and unofficially placed summer on the shelf.  (The heat is still high, so…)

I’ve become so used to living out of plastic tubs and suitcases, that having my own space is kind of new to me.  But in a good way.  I’d rather feel like I’m living in a home, rather than passing the time in it.  

It was kind of sad to let go of our lengthy vacation.  I have self-diagnosed separation anxiety.  Anywhere from seeing people off at the airport, or checking out of a hotel room…I feel this enormous void in my chest.  Enormous and oddly heavy, something I can’t shake.  I don’t know what it is about leaving a thing, such as a hotel room, but it happens.  Leaving my mom’s house for the last time this year, and that void was ever so present.  Could be that I had been there for over a month and I became accustomed to the way of life in her house, that making a change was tipping my world upside down.  

But it’s different when it’s the home where you grew up in for most of your life.  Missing the beach house, like the hotel, is where it becomes hard to understand.  I didn’t have my space to sprawl out in.  I shared a bed with a kicking 4-year-old.  I assigned a drawer and shelf space in the fridge for my food.  And I had to leave the house to get my workouts in. *gasp*

It’s the routine, and how we settled in.  I get a bit rattled when I have to move on or change things up a bit when I want to stay put. Maybe it’s the opportunities that make me more reluctant to let go. Then, I can understand my self-diagnosis.  Now let’s talk about this sunrise.  On Saturday morning, I went to the beach one last time.  I thought “You’re waking up at 5 to finish packing, and then you will head to the beach.  How often do you get to go there alone??”  Self, point taken.

I walked beyond the pier, because I wanted an unadulterated view of the sunrise.  There, I took some beautiful photos, and played around a little with time lapse.  The walk back was much calmer, because I wasn’t trying to beat the timing of a sunrise at this point.  Off went my flip-flops, and I walked with my feet in the water.  I was remembering how I would do this kind of dance with the ocean waves, going parallel down the beach with each one that rolled in.  Using peripherals, I’d watch the waves roll onto the beach and I’d adjust my steps while I ran to avoid getting my Minimus shoes and socks soaked.  

That morning, the waves and my feet met in solidarity, and I allowed it to slow me down.  I wanted to enjoy the ocean and this morning one last time.  And, leaving the water, then the sand, then the dunes and the walkway created that heavy void in my chest.  I looked back, snapped a few more pictures, and said “Good-bye” one last time.

 
 photo simplysig_zps2deaa2f8.png

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s