Why is it so Easy to Fall in Love at the Beach?

    Maybe it’s the playing.  Preoccupied with amusements instead of worrying.  Dancing in the sand and enticing each other further into the icy waves, leaving me breathless and incapable of rational thought.  At the beach we can let insecurities float up and away with the kites, where they’re carried inland by the wind, far away from the present.

    Or maybe it’s the vast ocean.  It’s hard to be self-absorbed when faced with my own insignificance.  The invigorating danger of the impending waves, threatening to drag me under and out, drown out the waves of "what ifs” that scare me off repeatedly when I’m away from the coast. 

    Could it be that everything is just easier on vacation?  No friends or family to meet. Responsibilities confined to relaxing and having fun.  It’s hard not to love life, or any part of it, with one’s bare feet in the sand.  No expectations.  Free to be kids.

    Why is that scared little girl within so peaceful and quiet at the beach, willing to accept anything that comes her way, even if it means drowning?  How can she retreat so easily at home?  My wish is for her to face the waves with the same bravery as when she’s standing in the surf.  I want her to know she’s worthy of being loved.  I want her to let the “what ifs” wash over her as she presses on against the tide. 

    I don’t want to shut her up or push her in.  I want her to choose to be fearless.  “I know it’s scary, but I’ll hold your hand.”