The Ocean

September 13, 2017
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You love the ocean by your little town.

You love her glittering sand and welcoming bay and little seagulls that hop along the coastline.

You love boasting your short distance to her outstretched watery hands.

You love the smooth caress of her water no matter the season and the small sea creatures that flock beneath her surface.

You love the locals with their sandy wit and you even love the tourists with their tacky puka shell necklaces.

You love the sea breeze and its call.

You love her in a way only someone who has lived within close proximity of her majesty could.

You love the kids that race along her pier and the photographers that perch at their side.

You love the way she sings on a sunny day and the way the music floats down the street into your kitchen window.

You love that you will someday raise your kids along her shore and that they will someday love her too.


You hate it when you see a swirling motion on the weather radar on the news that night.

You hate its digitalized pathway breaking root through her limbs and past your cities and towns.

You hate the empty gas stations and canned food aisles at the grocery store.

You hate the plywood you nail in front of glass windowpanes and the sandbags you lug to your driveway.

You hate the shrill clattering of wind chimes as the gusts rush in from her direction.

You hate how the tourists run from her.

You hate how they lunge just out of grasp of her shaking hands and you hate the evacuation notice they post on your door.

You hate the huddled bodies in the safe house that resemble animals locked in a cage.

You hate how the lights flicker before leaving.

You hate how she screams at the windows.

You hate how she tugs off the boards, and doors, and trees.

You hate how she cries through your streets drowning everything in her path.

You hate how tight her hands feel around your neck and you hate the puka shell necklace that washes up beside you.

You hate the fact you have no way to console her or the crying family curled around a street post.

You hate that there is nothing to do, but wait.


You love the ocean by your little town and the sun that peeks through the cracks of wet plywood.

You love the community that rises from her sodden grave to rebuild and recover.

You love the smiles through the tears and the strangers who offer you hope.

You love her glittering sand and the locals that rejoice at her shoreline.

You love her forgiveness and the family that helps replace a street post.

You love her soft voice in whispered apologies.

You love that you will someday raise your kids along her shore and that she will someday love them too.

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