I love the ocean.
I go to the beach, to think and to find comfort, and to be reminded that I’m such a small piece of this beautiful planet.
Those waves roll in no matter what is happening in the human world, and the sound of their crashing gives me peace.

John lived in the ocean.
He was a master scuba instructor and was more at home in the sea than on the land.
We were at the beach and swimming or walking every week without fail.
The wilder the weather, the better.

I still often go to the beach, but not as often as I used.
And I have not dipped a toe into the ocean since his stroke, in February, 2008.

I just look, and wish.

This weekend, my seventh birthday without his knowing, I will go back to the ocean.

Waves, over my head.

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