On Holiday

Holiday has been fantastic.  I once read an interview with one of my favorite authors, who is from England. She kept referring to vacation as "holiday" and now when I want to be precocious and classy, I call it holiday too.  So back to the point, holiday is fantastic.

We spent the latter half of this past week at a condo on Panama City Beach.  Glorious!  Our condo was literally on the beach, meaning Sister and I could have an impromptu dance party on the beach courtesy of our quick access and a cell phone with decent speakers.  I'm sure anybody looking out their window had a real good time laughing at us.

On one of the afternoons, I was sitting on the balcony watching the waves.  You don't get to see open ocean in Utah, and I was savoring the sound and beauty of the beach.  In that moment, I felt an interesting awareness and understanding that I haven't been able to clear from my mind.  I started to think of the water on the sand as coming home, bringing with it some poor individual who gratefully at the end of a journey, or else the return of a dearly-missed loved one.  And as the wave recedes, somebody starts their journey.  Heading out, into that ocean that looks so beautiful and intimidating you're not sure if it's actually worth the trouble.  And in the midst of it all, the waves still crash, the water keeps moving in ne'er ending line along the beach as far as you can see.  And for a few minutes, I felt safe, knowing that at some point, everyone feels what I'm feeling now.

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