As we found it one chilly June morning at 9:00...
This is where we come to breathe in moist air, laced with salt. We listen to the squaks and twitters of shore birds, big and small. We marvel at the power of those mid-Atlantic waves, and the way they inspire playfulness when they chase after your heels, but adrenaline as they crash onto the rocks.
Dad collects the roundest stones he can find for his rock wall, worn smooth by years in the surf. Mom collects photos of us all with mussy hair. T collects sea glass, and C collects flat rounds of quartz, for stacking.
I count discarded tampon applicators...I don't want to know why there are so many.
Salt water is healing. But so is the company you share it with, and the years and years of memories captured in sea foam, rolling out into the ocean and returning when the time is right.