That was in December.
And now, it’s April.
But it doesn’t matter. Because even now, I can close my eyes, and I can still hear the waves rolling, and I can still smell the salty sea air. It’s dark, and I’m a part of it. A part of the ocean. It rises and falls in my heart.
The ocean is big. Really big. I know that sounds painfully obvious, but it didn’t strike me until I stood on the shore and watched it for a while. It’s just so vast and endless… especially at night. You know something? When the ocean is all you can see for miles and miles, and it’s dark and ominous instead of a happy tropical blue, it’s a pretty scary place. All you can hear is the splash of the rolling waves, and it’s hard to tell what’s water and what’s sky… kind of makes you realize how insignificant your GPA really is.
One of the most relevant moments I had when I went to Florida was just watching the ocean. Seriously. Yeah, it was calming, but that’s not all. I felt small and unimportant when I stood on the shore… but I also felt free. Any worries that might have clouded my mind were gone. The smell, the sound, the sight… I felt more human, more alive than I had ever felt before. And yet… still different. Still me.
I don’t know… maybe this doesn’t even make sense. Maybe I’m just rambling on about something crazy, and maybe you don’t think the same way as I do.
But it doesn’t matter. Because either way, I know what I felt when I stood on that shore, and I know what I heard, and I know what I saw and what the air smelled like. And I know that I’ll never forget it.
That’s what matters.
Edit: The ocean photo is from Key West. Southernmost point of the United States.