Hold on. Don’t jump my gun, I’m back! Let me speak to y’all for a minute.
Last week marked the beginning of a two week journey without mother in the house, as she and Timo jetted off to Belgium and Ireland. We drove down to the west coast of France where we dropped the two deserters at an airport where they would catch their flight.
What to do now?… We had the whole day, and seven minutes from the airport was a bridge leading to the little island of Ré… Of course we would spend the day there. Beach, books, sun, ice cream, ocean = perfection!
“And God said, Let the waters under the heaven be gathered together unto one place…and the gathering together of the waters called he Seas: and God saw that it was good.” -Genesis 1: 9-10
God said the oceans were good; I completely agree. Let me expand a bit on my love for the sea.
Growing up in St. John, New Brunswick meant growing up right beside the Atlantic. The seagulls were always screaming, the air was always salty, and the ocean was always nearby in case there was ever a sudden urge to go swimming in the freezing waters. This was home, this was normal, this was my life. My brothers and I were fish, it didn’t matter how cold the water was, just give it a few minutes… the water wouldn’t get any warmer, but your body temperature would eventually consider this environment the new ‘norm’.
Blue sky, grey sky, it didn’t matter. I can remember one fairly grey day. The tide was out, the sky was grey, and a nice layer of fog decided to hang in the air. The parents set up the towels and sat on the cool sand and my brothers and I ran and cartwheeled through the fog to meet the water.
I have a lot of memories that have to do with the sea and water. Moving to a region in France that is a couple hours away from my beloved ocean meant there wouldn’t be as much ‘ocean time’ as before. Going to the island of Ré was refreshing for my little mermaid heart and a reminder of my love for the sea.
The ocean is a funny thing. Don’t think that I believe in legends or fairytales, but hear me out. There are stories of sirens calling men to the ocean, calling sailors to their demise, but I have a different idea. The stories that say the sirens call, but I think the ocean is the one who does the calling. “you used to call me on my shellphone…” Huh, what? forget I said that.
Being on the island, smelling the salty air, hearing the annoyingly lovely cries of the seagulls, and feeling the sand under my feet reminded me of why I love the the sea. Now my mermaid heart is renewed, and is eager to be by the sea once again.