My dearest Ocean,
It has been a week since I left you, and while I know that there was no other option, I can’t help but wish that I was still looking at your loveliness. I have photographs of you to keep you close while you’re far away, even though they can never quite capture your brilliance.
Some of my favorite time with you was watching you wake up in the morning. As the sun peeks out from its slumber, you stretch onto shore like a gentle whisper. I sat in the sand with a cup of coffee, your beauty intertwined with the colors shooting through the sky, and felt free to just breathe.
I am fascinated by your changing moods, sometimes gentle, other times unforgiving. You move with the universe in a way that can be described by science, yet when I’m standing in front of you I am consumed by your mystery. I don’t always understand you, but I think that’s part of the reason that you make me feel so much.
Even when the light fades from our world for the night, you still command my attention. People float through the twilight as you move up the shore to wash away their footprints. I can’t see you as well, but I can truly hear you now – your waves unfurling on the sand, foam bubbles quietly popping in the breeze. You become more dangerous in the dark, but I don’t leave your presence until my eyes become too tired to stay open.
As I sit on my couch in an Ocean-less Ohio, I miss you. I’ve never felt quite as at home as I do when you’re washing over my feet and whispering into my ear. I will return to you, have no doubt, but I don’t know when. I know that you will wait for me though, my dear Ocean. Until then, I have my photographs and my memories.