As a child of the Navy, I have always lived near water. Always.
I can't imagine living in a land-locked area. I can't imagine not having access to the calmness that water offers me.
I love visiting our coast. Even though it's usually windy and a little cool, not to mention the high probability of rain, it's my favorite place to be.
The roar of the ocean, the spray of the water, wet sand beneath my toes...love it all.
In all my years living near the water, I've never become a water sportsman--I don't own a boat, a jet-ski, or even a kayak. In fact,I can barely swim.
The last time I fished was probably in my early teens or preteens when I tagged along with my grandfather.
I went crabbing once in junior high and had a blast. Probably because crabbing was a lot easier and faster than fishing.
My first memory of going to a beach is from Norfolk, Virginia. It was hot, hot, hot. The sand stung our toes. And the beach was crammed with people. I was five. The water was warm and the memories warmer.
After Norfolk, we moved to Keflavik, Iceland. I have more distinct memories of the coast there.
Watching a trio of shark fins circle the water just beyond the shore. Okay, as an adult, I know it probably wasn't sharks--too cold of water, I believe. But, at nine years old, it was pretty darned impressive.
My parents would take us to a dock on the beach and they'd fish for flounder that my sister and I would throw back into the ocean.
Once we spotted a bloated, green work glove floating in the water and I told my sister it was a man's hand and we needed to save it. Of course, she screamed and then she tried to help me fish it out. The next time we went, it was gone and for me, the dock had lost it's "magic". That's the first time I remember creating a story and feeling the 'awe' from doing so.
I have other memories of water, going to the beach every summer with grandma or to "the place" along the Lewis River with my cousins when it got too hot to stay in town. We wore our tennis shoes in the water because it was so rocky and the water had pincher bugs in it. But the water felt
so good on those hot August days.
Swimming/dog-paddling in Iceland's blue lagoon. The smell of Whale Bay in Iceland. Crashing waves on the rocks. Getting tangled in the logs at Lake Merwin and almost drowning. Finding a wooded pond at a campground and not being able to find it again on return trips. Did it actually exist?? Or was it some sort of fantasy appearing ala Doon?
Water fuels my soul. What does it for you?