Going to the beach hits a little different these days.
Hear me out. If you know me at all, you know that I would much rather throw a kegger party than a pity party. So there will be none of that here (none of the pity one, I’m totally down for the kegger one). 🙂 No, this is simply about the need to create an awareness of and a focus on what really matters.
I have always loved being at the beach. From the rhythm of the waves to the smell of the sea, it was a wonderful sensory overload that centered me with all that was awesome in life.
And not just those sunny summer days. Some of my very favorite beach experiences have been during wicked winter storms – sitting by the fire, watching through the windows as the ocean unleashed its beautiful fury.
Though I have to be honest, as much as I love being at the beach, I was never much for those long walks on the beach. I know, it sounds crazy, especially considering I had the best long walk on the beach partner on the planet. So sure, if Melanie asked me to go, I’d go. But in reality, jumping in the waves, or a nice drive on the beach, or a sunset campfire on the beach, or just sitting on my ass with a cold one in my hand and my toes in the sand… absolutely, those were all perfectly fine with me.
Well, this past weekend was my first trip to the beach since I became chair bound. Of course, Melanie had perfectly executed her standard strategy – she asks me if I want to do something, then, as I’m thinking about it, she will make non-refundable reservations. Solid strategy, 60% of the time it works every time. 🙂
Actually, it works every time, but I liked the reference.
Anyway, it was to be a quick getaway, just to see if we could manage a trip like this as my condition progresses. The sheer quantity of medical related equipment that we need to lug around is mind-boggling. I’m totally blown away by how she does it – I guess where there’s a will there’s a way – but there we were, at the beach.
As I sat there, looking towards the horizon, I could hear the waves crashing along the shore, calling my name. I could see the beach, which beckoned me to feel the sand between my toes. I could smell the ocean breeze, taking my mind right to the edge of the sea itself.
But there I sat, at the end of the pavement, unable to proceed, reflecting back on the countless times I had enjoyed the beauty of the beach in my life. Today was different, as I was forced to come to terms with the reality that there was now, in a somewhat cruel irony, a line in the sand that I could not physically cross.
Do you have any idea what I would give for a long walk on the beach with my beautiful wife now?
My point is that I can’t go back in time and add a dozen more walks on the beach… or even one more walk on the beach. No, those days are gone.
Yet the fact that I can no longer jump the waves does not prevent me from feeling the ocean breeze upon my face. The fact that I can no longer feel the sand between my toes as I walk the beach does not prevent me from feeling the love of the beach itself.
And the end of that paved path is not the end of my life. I refuse to let it be when I still have the love of my wife, the love of my family, or the love I have for this life I have been given.
As I mentioned, this was about awareness and focus. It was not about dwelling on what I can no longer do, but appreciating all that I am blessed to still have.
Really, it was about much more than a walk on the beach. It’s about the life we all can still live, today.
Whether it’s a walk on the beach, a hike up the trail, or just a stroll through the park, take advantage of the opportunities you have to do the things that bring you joy, with the people you love, while you can.
Because you never know when you might find yourself facing that line in the sand – when you may be afforded the opportunities, but find you may lack the abilities.
As for me, I decided to live life in such a way that the line doesn’t matter.
