Oceans 14

I introduced a young man to the ocean this weekend and they became true and perfect friends.

Oceans are what people can be when they remember their source of light — steady like the tide, uplifting like the waves and unbiased generators of growth.

Earth hits its apex of beauty each evening when the sunset stretches its colors out over the water and the ocean reflects all of that wonder back toward the sky.

We caught that show every evening — sometimes sprinting toward the sand so we wouldn’t miss a moment.

And that generous ocean kept us entertained all day, too. We rode her waves for hours, hopped aboard those white caps and hitched a ride to shore.

Most days it felt like we had the whole Gulf of Mexico to ourselves. How do you say you’re from Wisconsin without saying you’re from Wisconsin? You jump into the ocean on a breezy January day.

When we weren’t in the ocean, we walked alongside it, helping ourselves to the gifts it scattered along the shore. Some shells carried barnacles and we wondered at the layers of stories embedded there.

Even the sand we walked on and sifted through and mounded into castles felt like a generous gift from our stalwart friend.

We’re headed back home today, pockets full of seashells and suitcases dusty with sand.

But even 1400 miles away, we’ll still feel the steady pull of the ocean, its ebb and flow like a heartbeat on which we’re grateful to depend.