Stagnant senses are brought to life. The breeze blows sand particles, brushing the hair upright on your skin and itching your feet and ankles. It shifts that wisp of hair behind your ear to tickle your cheek. You breathe in air fragrant of fish skin, sea salt, and blue water, like a saltier version of mom’s Burberry Brit eau de parfum. Your nose tingles with exhilarated familiarity. Waves roll and roll and slap like rotating metallic cylinders only to crash and splinter into white bubbles foaming mad on the shoreline. When you closely hear that sound, that full-of-swimming-and-living-and-breathing-sea-life roar of the ocean, electricity sprints through your bloodstream and wakes your brain alive because you know that you’re in the presence of some omniscient power. There are no humans around but there is so much life and so much sound, and when the sun steadily tucks itself into the horizon, God’s majesty shows. The ocean shimmers like an expansive diamond, carved with minuscule slithers of glistening pinks, plums, and fire oranges. The mind irresistibly succumbs to the vigor of such power. The mind succumbs to the environment you are used to, but you are still stimulated by it every time. The mind succumbs to the comfort because you know that luckily, this is home.
My Second Home
February 2, 2008