Never Ready to Leave

I got myself to the ocean today. Every time I go, I think to myself, "Why don't I come here more often?!" It's of course a question that I know the answer to, but I ask it in hopes of pushing myself to take a detour from the responsibilities of my life as a mom and a teacher. The ocean is a good 40 minutes away from my home but going there more often seems to be what my soul needs.

Going with friends or family is nice. It makes me smile to see my husband take off on a walk down the beach knowing that sitting in the sun for any length of time is not his cup of tea, or to see my children bury one another in the sand with the help of a friend or two. I love to watch my son enjoy the waves or see my daughters taking photographs like I do. But no matter how much fun my kids are having or how patient my husband is trying to be as he coats himself with another layer of sunscreen, I am never at the ocean long enough for my liking. "I'm ready when you are" is something I hear way too soon when we are there. So what I need to do is to sneak away by myself more often and for an extended period of time.

Several years ago when my daughters attended a day camp at a campus on the coast, I'd pack up their little brother (or leave him home with his Dad) and spend hours upon hours on a little stretch of a secluded beach nearby. My girls were quite sad when their camp had to close its doors. I was devastated. I'd lost an excuse to go to the ocean on and off for three weeks straight each summer.

I used to dream of owning a home on the ocean and although I realize that is not something that will happen for me, I'd still like to find a way to rent a spot for a few days at least, just so I can spend a full 24 or 48 hours there in the sand watching the waves.

Then and now I tell myself there is no reason why I cannot drive to the ocean at the end of a workday come September for I'd love to walk the beach or sit and look out over the water during each season of the year. I could jump on the highway after getting out of work, drive a half hour or so, walk the beach, take time to breathe in the ocean air, then drive home. I bet I could still make it back in time to make dinner. But then September comes and the routine of driving home from work, trying to get home as early as possible so as to play taxi, or to throw in a load of laundry...it consumes me and I neglect what I told my soul it needs the last time my feet hit the sand.

I am going back to the ocean. I'm going back soon and I'm going to go back alone. Because I want to forget all sense of time as I sit reading my book. I want to take endless walks and jump into the waves only to do it again and again each time after my hair has completely dried. I want to be there as the sun is setting and as the moon begins to shine, not hearing, "I'm ready when you are". Because the truth of the matter is, I'm never ready to leave.