My heart is at the ocean, I can hear it anytime...I close my eyes and think of the smell of cedar trees and salty sea air. I can feel myself sitting on bleached driftwood, moving my bare feet in the dry, warm sand. I will take the beach, rain or shine. In the rain, mostly, you have the beach to yourself, with the sound of the waves crashing into shore... the only real company you need. I like to record voice memos and videos whenever I get to spend time with the ocean because I don't live near it. This is something that actually hurts my heart. I was born to be there; it makes me feel home.
Growing up, my dad lived at the sea, though we rarely saw him and when we did it was always complicated with emotions of guilt and resentment I internalized from my mother. But it was also the only place I remember consistently being just a kid. Just walking in the sun. Just going into the forest, climbing a small cliff, picking berries. I romanticize it all now that I am older and have the uncomplicated lens of appreciation. Appreciation for a place, for a time, for a unique relationship with my surroundings.
The ocean is deep and somewhat mysterious. But it is also consistent in its tides, predictable, comforting. It was the gift that kept giving as a child in the 90's. Roaming almost untouched beaches in the small, First Nation island my dad called home. Sand dollars, Japanese glass balls, wooden paddles, clam shells, urchins...these were endlessly entertaining to the city kid in me. Looking off the docks and in the shallow bays for starfish could fill an entire afternoon.
Whenever I get the chance, I take my girls to visit. It is my hope that they connect with the water the way I did as a kid. I always remind them to breathe in the sea air and enjoy the cedar trees. What a privilege. What a world.
-Amanda
