We actually had to turn the car around because we couldn't get through this hurricane downpour in Elizabeth City.
I just spent five glorious, heavenly, delightful days at the Outer Banks. We drove through torrential downpour, leaving behind lost ways and the broken summer to refresh, rebirth, and fall ahead, in Mauri's terms. In my terms, to heal, to soak in some sun and sea, and to recharge.
There's something about the ocean. I am mesmerized. The steady rhythm, the constant movement, the sound of the surf. I loved making my daily run along the shore, hitting the hard sand by the water, and barely escaping the icy lava as it lapped the sand (not icy because it was cold--but because of the frothy white color). I loved learning how to boogie board--I learned those waves. I learned how to stand against them, how to rush into them, and how to ride them to shore. I learned how to recognize the good ones and how to avoid the wimpy ones. I took a few beatings--I'll be honest--my mouth and nose and ears filled with salty brine and my knees scraped the gravelly shells on the sea floor a few times. The exhilaration of being pulled to shore rushed through me and I embraced the warm water, the sweeping beach breeze, the soft sand.
As I bid my beach farewell on my morning run just twelve short hours ago, I realized that the ocean had already forgotten me. Even my footprints from one way had erased as I wended my way back to the house. Even as I write, safely at home on my living room floor watching the RNC, I can feel the gentle push and pull of waves. They entered my bloodstream. I'll continue to find sand in surprising places. And I can close my eyes and hear the waves pounding and feel the sun and the breeze, and smell the salt air.
I heart the Outer Banks.
And a special shout out to the incredible friends who joined us at our beach house, to the fantastic food, the great weather, the hopping music, that amazing ice maker, reverse charades (white! snow! white! snow! or plastic! head! munchkin! or ghost! death! funeral!) and the sun. Oh, the sun.