I made it to the beach this afternoon and it's lovely. When is it not? If not in harm's way, even wild and thrashing is lovely. But today at 5 o'clock the sea oats sway softly as far up and down the shore as I can see. A yellow flag and families dotted about the sand, waves overlapping the shoreline. A calm day. I can swim in this, I'm thinking. Horizon bright and sharp, a deep blue ocean against a Carolina blue sky, few clouds. We have two more hours of daylight but already the sun is at my back.
Our shoreline runs east to west and faces south. When rockets launch at Cape Canaveral (three with September target dates) we see them overhead. Our sand is soft and oatmeal, not rocky, just shells and sand. You can burrow your feet. Children lie down and pour buckets over one another until only their heads and feet show. Then they hop out, sand flying.
The nights are cooler now but still in the 70s. No more stinging bare feet as we trudge between the dunes toward home. The coast is rich and wide, full of life, no re-nourishment needed. I am so happy to be here after months away. No threat of a hurricane yet this season, although those will come.
I know some folk aren't attracted to the sea. They prefer mountains or desert, lakes or deep woods, cities and nightlife, small towns and farmland, or at least like them best. Wonderful places for sure. There's probably nothing I can't enjoy on the right day and in the right mood; nothing at all.
I encountered the question, "When do you feel like your favorite self?" somewhere and the answer came so quickly I knew it was AT THE BEACH. Not where I live full-time. Not central North Carolina Piedmont, halfway between the Atlantic and the Blue Ridge Mountains. But where I ride my bike, gaze at the ocean, look from the kitchen while making supper and watch the waves, hear them even with the windows closed, look at a dark sky rich with stars, find the moon over the top floor deck every night, watch the sun rise and set, eat scallops and clams, sit overlooking the sea and read . . . .
Maybe you feel like your favorite self at home. How good is that? In your own small or large space. Curtains and do-dads, history, cozy bed and comfy couch, dog and children and books and life. Maybe that's where you are all the things you want to be. Perhaps I used to feel like that too, earlier in life and not having this place at the beach. I think in my 20s my favorite self was sitting in the rocker with both babies on my lap after their baths, their bodies smelling sweetly and wrapped in towels. I remember that clearly, the fragrance and softness. I was my favorite self then. In contrast to harried mornings, finding a sitter, rushing to class. Yes, my peaceful loving and blessed favorite self. I have more recent thoughts of watching all three grandchildren play in our small pool, hooting and toppling each other and me feeling very blessed indeed. When working full time my favorite self was at the end of a long case when my client's problem was made better. But overall, nine out of ten times these days, my favorite self lives here, at the beach with my husband. A lucky woman long-married.
After all, favorite self is a feeling, isn't it? Athletes might find their favorite selves somewhere in the endeavor. On a mountain top, at the end of a game, during a run or handling Class 3 rapids. Dunking the ball, making a goal or thwarting one. Where skill shines and endorphins soar. That's why bike riding is part of my favorite self; it can feel like racing, with the wind in your face, peddling hard and watching the neighborhood go by. Same with riding the waves, which my back won't let me do anymore.
When I write about being at the beach I feel like it is a humble brag. Maybe because I am a native mid-westerner and as a child beach meant travel and money. Not so for North Carolinians. There's camping and vacation rentals. . . . and no plane necessary. Many people all over the world live near water. But to me, having a beach house is a luxury, even a house that is a cottage and not a starter-castle-cum-rental house. One where I climb the stairs three flights to the upside-down living/kitchen area. Where the decking could use repair and new windows (and maybe even an elevator) would be an improvement. But one that everyone in the family seems to enjoy. The shed is filled with sand toys and boogie boards that we didn't buy. When we come down, some nephew or son-in-law has installed a new smoke detector or water filter, replaced the rafts or left a new blender. The towels are folded and my husband's elaborate "exit procedure" has been followed. I hope that some of the family sometime find their favorite self here.
When we read something, even a great novel, I think that what we want is to move from the specific to the universal. How does this personal story of someone else fit me? So this simple question is now for you. When/where do you feel like your favorite self? The answering I guarantee will bring back your memories, your thoughts about where you are and what you are doing when you like yourself best. I know that I picked somewhat common things. I did not say my favorite self is when making the world a better place, an ambition I'm not sure I can handle. But our times of life are different. Where are you now in your life? It's a good question. And when do you feel like your favorite self?
Sending you the best, Nina Naomi
