A Sea Recedes


In the rearview mirror of our summer, Rehoboth Beach gets smaller and smaller as we return to upstate New York. Not quite ready to let go of the sand and the sun and the summer itself, I relish each moment of our ride home, trying to bring a bit of the sea home with us. Already, I miss it and the calming effect it has on us. The ritual of putting on sunblock, of packing books and iced tea and towels, of leaving the phone and the wallet and the worldly cares in the hotel room as we walk to the sandy shore – these are the little traditions we set up and practiced daily, and we fell into them as joyfully as we did quickly. The instant ease of a vacation – it’s a good thing.

The trick is how to keep this feeling of freedom, how to capture the ephemeral magic of such a moment. Sometimes I think that as soon as you attempt to do so, you lose it. Instead, I’ll hold it loosely in my heart, uncaged and free, and ever-ready to remind, especially when the winds of winter begin to blow.

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