One day, I will have a beach house.

I am blessed to live in south AL which is next to North FL. The beach we usually go to is Panama City Beach.
which is about 80 miles away.Then there is Destin, a little more upscale, but equally as beautiful. I swear, when I cross the state line from AL to FL, I can begin to feel the pull of the beach. Even the dirt looks different…there is sand mixed into it–stretching the shore of the great ocean as far as possible.

This is my great desire. I want to lay my head down for as long as I choose in my own beach house. I do
not want to stay in a motel and have to check out by noon. I do not want to pack my clothes in a suitcase
to take home. I want to wait until I’m good and ready to leave. I want a place to leave my clothes, so
when I come back, my softest shorts and loosest top and my old flip-flops are there and waiting for
me–like old friends.

It seems easier to make plans and talk of the future when we are staring at a far horizon with endless
waves in front of it. Tomorrow seems very far away. It is easier to talk of insignificant things. They
can just fly away on the wind, if need be. It is easier to just be together without saying a word–both
listening to the roar of the waves and the calling of the gulls…..minds full of things to say…..but
not wanting to stop the concert going on around us.

It’s alot about the water which surrounds you wherever you may find yourself. It’s not at all like a dip in the
pool…which starts and ends…you get in and you get out and you walk away, without so much as a
thought, until you want to dive in again. But, the ocean is different…it surrounds you with itself.
Through the windows of the shops and the balconies of the hotels, or the open-air decks of the
restaurants, the ocean glistens in the distance. You can’t escape if you are anywhere near. As you drive,
and if you need to look at a map, there is a curved piece of white land and then lots of
blue to indicate where the land stops and the ocean begins.. i like to be just that close to the blue.
I can breathe here…and think. But, not just think–think through. Is it the cool wind that blows
that clears my mind? Or does the sun just bake my cares away? Mystery, that.

There is the sand. Most beaches do not have this kind of sand. Not even on my beloved Maui. The sand
there is more akin to dirt…brownish dirt…with sticks in it. But, here in Florida, along the Emerald
Coast, it’s different. Here the sand is white, and its texture is like fine sugar. It is so soft and
flies on the breeze like a powder. It is soft…and squishy to walk on…until it gets wet…then it is
rock hard. You can walk and walk and walk on this wet sand as you stroll near the breaking waves. Piers
and hotels and sandcastles fade from view as you walk. And when you stop…you can’t believe how
far you’ve traveled. When you return and take a shower for the day…you will notice how soft and smooth
your feet are. Great exfoliator, this sand!

It will not matter what kind of place I can find. The outside may look forlorn and the furniture may be a
little shabby. (That’s chic, you know). The floor boards may creak and the walls may be in need of paint.
Matters not. For the show is outside. Inside is the place that holds your belongings…of which you
need little. Inside holds a bed for sleeping. But, it’s outside where the beach ‘happens’. Outside is where
the beauty is.  Outside is where the air is full of salt and spray. Outside is where the Creator sketches
and paints another masterpiece in the sky each evening. Each is more beautiful than the last. Outside is
where the breeze is like no other. For this wind comes from far away places…far across the sea…far
beyond the horizon. And, whispered into this wind are the dreams and hopes and wishes and prayers that
are made by millions just like me. And, they are blown first to this shore and then to that. Listen!
You can almost hear them! Feel free to add your own…it never fills up.

My little cottage…oh, how I’ll fix that little place up! I’ll bring in driftwood and shells…lots of shells. And, the ones that have little holes in them will be strung to make huge mobiles that I’ll hang from the ceilings. Maybe I’ll find some of those colored glass balls that wash ashore at times. And, there will be art. Beautiful pictures taken of beaches around the world…some made by me. Because, surely this feeling I feel is felt by women elsewhere. This wanting a place to escape to…a place of clean air and cool sand and the sound of waves…it has to be a universal desire…there are beaches and oceans and people the world over. Surely they are all dreamt over.

This sea is vast….and this wind goes on forever. And, this sunshine bakes it all to just the right doneness
so it is perfection for whomever comes to walk its sandy shore and wet their toes in the waves as they lap
at the shore. The sea….it is miraculous!

Oh, don’t be sad, sweet Maui. You own my soul. You are the place I am the most alive. My love for you
is still true…even if your sand is not the best. But, let’s be honest here. Even dreams need to have
a little dose of reality. The chances of my ever living on YOUR shores are very, very slim. I do not
ever think it could happen. But, it could be possible for me to have a shanty in FL. Not likely…but
closer to reality. So, I’ll dream in possibilities and promise to visit you, sweet Maui, as often as is

One day, I will have a beach house…and I shall be content.