Mother, Mother Ocean

With another run of unseasonably warm weather gracing our fine city, I thought I'd take advantage and do something I haven't done in a long time: I went to the beach. It was strange to see Wrightsville so crowded in mid-January. Girls shivering in their bikinis. Shirtless college boys throwing football, kicking soccer balls in roving gangs. Dogs of all breeds - terriers, retrievers, maltese.

After sitting on the dunes for awhile, I walked down under the pier and down the beach a stretch. At first, I tried to keep my feet and jeans from getting wet, but then I gave in and decided there was really no point trying to stay clean and let my jeans get all wet and sand-crusted.

I like to pick up rocks and shells when I'm at the beach. But only the ones that are flat and smooth and edgeless. Those are the ones that remind me why I love the ocean - it is ceaseless in its movement, the tides rolling over and over and over again. That tumbling water can make any jagged edge smooth over time as the waves crash in on each other and the surf bubbles up along the shore.