The beach

3 November 2021, 9:42 AM
Back to journal
 I keep thinking about the beach, even though it's November and the beach is probably closed.

 I've always loved the beach. I've always loved the sea.

 I want to go to the beach, but not when it's crowded. I want to be totally alone. It's midday, low tide, and the town is abandoned. It doesn't matter anymore. There are no peering eyes, only the sounds of insects and birds, and the droll hum of the waves bearing down on the sand.
 I want to not care how weird I look in my clothes and to throw off my shoes and feel the firm sand under my feet. I wish I could show you the rock pile where you can find snails and barnacles. The shitty old boardwalk that's falling into the marsh. The tall beachgrass that sways in the wind. The jetty and the lighthouse. The giant salt marshes that seem to stretch on forever. The marshes are so beautiful. If you've never been to the coast, you might have complained about the smell. I'd tell you to shut up, it's one of the world's most important ecosystems and it's beautiful.
 You know it's cooler by the beach? The sea air is nice and cool, especially up north like this. It's cleaner than any air you've ever known. We'd be happy to take that for granted.
 The old coast town is crumbling to dust. We could go anywhere we wanted. Those old, barren buildings I always wondered what was in. The half-collapsed buildings that used to be shops and hotels. We could go down that road that used to be lined with rich people's campy summer houses. We could go inside if we wanted. No one's around.
 In that moment, it wouldn't matter where everyone went. It wouldn't matter if we died here. The only thing that is quantifiable in life is happiness.

 Everything that dies in the sea sinks to the ocean floor. Benthic feeders will clean it to the bone. Nothing is wasted. Life is created from death. Isn't that beautiful?