The funny thing about being way up here in the Pacific Northwest is that there isn’t a lot of sunshine illuminating the coast. It peeks through here and there, but it isn’t the steady, warm sun that I associate with the beach.
I’m not gonna lie, that was a bit of a disappointment – maybe that’s the wrong word, though. It took a bit of an *adjustment* to accept that this was another side to this ocean that I have loved and lived for my entire life.
I walked along the shore this afternoon, accepting the fog and letting it wrap around me, unsure of what was before me and only certain of what I could remember behind me.
I walked close to the shoreline, and once I turned back to see my footsteps – but they were gone. I was so close to the water that the sand was swallowing the imprint as soon as it was left.
At first I found all of this unsettling, but as I paused and looked out at the ocean with the fog holding us together, my energy shifted. I had been a little afraid to that point, but the tingling in my chest began to subside as I just let it be what it was.
I focused on what I could see and hear – those small yet mighty waves in front of me – I breathed in deep, and I let it be.
Today was different. I experienced things I never have before, from a walk in the fog to drawing on faith that the sun will shine again, that it was shining even then above this sleepy cloud.
Today was good. The beginning of a new year. Another decade gone, and here I stand, remarkably okay – at least in this moment – with whatever is ahead. Whether I can see it or not.