Sea Legs

 

Sea Legs

The rushing of leaves reminds me of the rushing of waves. We are miles away from the ocean, however–nowhere near it, in fact. It has been a while since I have seen the sea–or heard it, rather. The summer has been wrung out with two dips in the pool and to-do lists.

I'm not missing the sea, however. What I really crave are walks through green and expands of breath. And my wish has been granted, woven into wants of home and what I know. I will soon be walking through the woods on the western side of the U.S., and then over to the eastern fields near my father's house.

But the present sky brings me back to the sea. It promises a sea storm in the smears of cobalt blue-gray that paint my mood. In reality, the air is cool and brings respite. None of the heaviness of the water beads clogs its current.

It's this mix of sea and city that makes me unsure of where I am, of my place on the connecting chord. Am I being pulled to the sea as my feet grab onto the rushing sand that is the city?

Soon, I will have both–the tug of the shore and the stableness of  the city once I get settled in. I will let my worries wash out in the water and enjoy the tide tickling my toes as I turn to the horizon.

Photo: <a href="https://pixabay.com/users/pexels-2286921/?utm_source=link-attribution&utm_medium=referral&utm_campaign=image&utm_content=1850250">Pexels</a> from <a href="https://pixabay.com//?utm_source=link-attribution&utm_medium=referral&utm_campaign=image&utm_content=1850250">Pixabay</a>

Text: Kristen Mastromarchi