Far Away

If you've known me long, you know one thing:

I love the sea.

(these photos were all taken by my friend Julia...at the beach where I grew up and Jesse proposed to me in 2007)

A little bit of me dies realizing that I'm so far from my beloved coastline these days...that I don't live in my upstairs bedroom with the island view in my parents' house...that I can't just walk to the beach to collect sea glass whenever the whim hits me.  Sunsets just aren't the same when they have smog as a backdrop.

I miss my ocean.

But I love my husband, and he is the only reason I am here!  I love him enough to trade coastal breezes for sweltering inland heat (even in October--how ridiculous is that?!?); I love him enough to deal with smog instead of fog, and I love that my handsome inland man loves me enough to take me back to my ocean whenever we have the opportunity.

But every once in a while, when I'm sticky from the heat and itching from dry skin, I play "Far Away" by Ingrid Michaelson and slip back to the coast.



One hot day this past summer, Jesse came in while I was brushing my hair and singing along "...on our island in the blue bay."

Jesse smiled and wrapped his arms around me.  "Aren't you glad I'm not a lobster man?"

"If you were, we'd live by the ocean," I teased.

"But... I'd smell like fish," He faltered, surprised by my counter.

"You'd smell like the ocean, and I could breathe that in every day for the rest of my life!"

Not sure if a lobster man is going to be Jesse's future career choice.

But Ocean, have faith.  If it can't happen until we retire, so be it.

But we will live near you again.

I'm counting on it.