We haven’t even been at the beach 48 hours, and I already feel more at ease. The sounds of the waves combined with the breezy, salty air is like a magical elixir for relaxation. We’re lucky that the weather isn’t supposed to break 90 this week. It’s the perfect temperature for running on the beach in the morning and hanging out on the beach all day.
When my grandparents were young, they called the beach “the seashore”. I like that phrase. It sounds more poetic than “the beach”. When I think of going to the seashore, I think of women in striped 1940s swimsuits and men with James Dean smiles and hair styled with Pomade. I think of shag dancing and Otis Redding. I think of Ferris wheels on piers where passengers feel as though they’ll wheel right into the ocean below. I think of classic Chevys or Mustang convertibles cruising down Ocean Blvd.
I’ve decided, though, that no matter the generation, the beach is a magical place to be. Those of us from the Carolinas have a special fondness toward the seashore. It’s part of our heritage and history. Most of us Carolinians grew up either going to the North Carolina or South Carolina shore. I have hundreds, maybe thousands, of my own beach memories. I could write a novel chronicling the many summers, spring breaks, and weekends spent at the beach with family and friends.
Now as I watch my boys make their own beach memories, it makes me smile. I know when they grow up, they’ll look back on these very moments. They may even come to love the beach as a place of refuge, of wonder, like my husband and I do. The seashore is a special place that, for me, holds a large piece of my life and my heart. I can’t pinpoint exactly what it is that makes it so unique. I don’t’ know if it’s the vastness of the ocean, the sounds of the seagulls, or the healing nature of the sea air, but whatever it is, I always leave feeling refreshed and inspired.
“After a visit to the beach, it’s hard to believe that we live in a material world.” – Pam Shaw