Where do you go to dream?
For me it’s the beach. Nothing relaxes me like listening to the sound
of the ocean. A friend sent me a tape of ocean sounds but it’s just not the
same as smelling the salt water, watching the sea gulls, and wiggling my toes
in the sand.
I have all the symptoms of a true beach bum. I love Jimmy Buffett and the Beach
Boys. I adore the smell of tanning oils. I could listen to Otis Redding’s Sitting
on the Dock of the Bay all day and all night.
I even found my husband on the beach (actually he was in a hammock between
two palm trees). We met in the Florida Keys and married a year later.
Don’t misunderstand. I dearly love Kentucky and I wouldn’t trade our “hills
and hollers” for all the sand in Egypt. But if someone offered to move the ocean
to my back yard I wouldn’t turn them down.
This summer my brother and his family were brave enough to share their
Florida vacation with us. Our children rode the waves together and built castles
in the sand. My 4-year-old nephew Jackson danced, skipped, and twirled his way
to the beach every day. “I’m on bacation,” he’d squeal gleefully to anyone who
would listen. For Jackson, life is a party. If you need happiness lessons I
strongly recommend following him around for a week.
September brings summer’s end. The sand will disappear from my tennis
shoes, my tan will fade, and the kids will go back to school. Instead of dreaming
on the beach I will sit in the swing beneath the maple tree in our back yard.
I will listen to frogs and crickets and compare the twinkling of fireflies to
the summer stars and relish the feeling of inner peace that stillness brings.
Sometimes in the rush of life I forget how comforting the sounds of
nature are and just how important it is to listen to the quiet and dream.