The beach brings out the best in me. It's like a home away from home, no matter what beach I'm at, no matter whose house I'm in, no matter who I'm with. The beach always feels like home, even though I never grew up there.
I pull up in the driveway of someone else's property, lucky enough to stay there for a week. I jump out of my car as quickly as I can and without a worry in the world, I go down to the beach; the only thing on my mind is seeing the ocean. I make my way down the wooden planked walkway, camera in hand, and kick off my tattered Rainbows at the top of the stairs. I run down the stairs, my feet waiting to hit the warm sand and sift through my toes as I walk. I see the murky, green ocean so alluring, the blue sky full of fluffy white clouds, and people laughing, knowing their vacation has begun and work can cease. I slowly stick my toes in the crisp, cold ocean, God's beautiful creation right before me. The wind whips my dark brown hair, pulling wispy pieces from the bun atop my head. I look out and am so thankful to live here. The beach seems to wash away life's worries and stress, leaving me grateful and in awe. This week I'm at the beach and there's nowhere else I'd rather be.