Of Love and the Ocean

My husband once told me no one loves the beach as much as I do. And I don’t know whether that makes me feel special or sad—special because maybe I have a connection to it that other people don’t have or sad because other people don’t love it as much. Either way, something about the beach seems to feed my soul. If it’s been too long since I was last there, I feel it. Life starts to feel like it’s piling up on me.

So we try to go to the beach every year. And our vacations do double duty for me, since they’re also research for my books. This June, we spent a week on Topsail Island, NC, where my latest manuscript is set.

The beach hair (and smiling) began the moment I climbed out of the car. I mean. Who wouldn’t smile at this view:

Every day I woke up with the waves dancing just outside the window. There is no better view for me. And every day, I walked along the beach, filling my lungs with the salty air and trying to figure out what it is that I love so much. Part of it is texture. The beach is overflowing with textures.

So many layers of textures and colors.

This particular beach was wide, with broad tidal ranges. At high tide, there was a large expanse of shallow water before you reached any real depth, so the light and wind could play with the water in the loveliest way.

Light and texture, every moment. And weather that can change everything in a minute.

Honestly, I could stare at that for hours. We even got to see a gorgeous lightning storm out over the water one night. But when storms rolled through during the day, they usually didn’t last all that long. And sometimes they left a stunning, mystical fog.

I love the way the water fades into the sky, how the light shifts the shade of the water. It’s dynamic, ever-changing.

Light, texture, dynamics, water reflecting the sky. And there’s this constant wind that wraps me up in a cocoon of solitude so that it’s just me and my thoughts. But at the same time, it seems muffles my negative thoughts. So it’s like being wrapped up with everything that is good and beautiful, with miles of possibility stretching out in front of me.

Who wouldn’t love that?

Now if you need me, I’ll be browsing the listings for beach houses and dreaming of being able to afford one.

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New York, part 2

After the train arrived safely in the city of taxis, the writer girl was whisked away to the magical land of Broadway, to a theatre called Nederlander.

Newsies playbill
She lost herself in another world as the performers sang and danced.

Central Park 1

The next day, the writer girl and her husband wandered around Central Park, where they sat and ate in front of the big city.

Central Park 2

When lunch was done, they wandered past trees and pillars.

Central Park 4

They stopped to stare at incredible architecture.

Central Park 5

They strolled down winding pathways, guarded by lamp posts.

Central Park 6

They pondered great rocks.

Central Park 8

And small castles of stone.

Then, when the time came, they returned to the train station.

And homeward went the purple chucks, one dream fulfilled but many more still ahead.