Longing for the Ocean


I grew up listening to the song of loss.  It sang the sound of crashing waves, the seagull’s call, and was sounded by my mother’s voice.  It was not a loss that overwhelmed her happiness, but the ocean was and always will be a part of her being.

Photo by Jason Struhs

She moved to the high dessert, exploring the pines and red rock. A place of beauty, and worthy of pursuit.  The Rocky Mountains tower in the sky emanating a regal presence. They some how seem to be the royalty of nature.

Being raised in a place of such wonder made it difficult for me to understand her longing for the ocean. It seemed to pail in comparison to my mountains. I must confess I was dismissive when she would recall her times walking along the beach.


It was not till I truly met the ocean that I understood its true pull and power.  If the mountains are the Kings and Queens of nature, than the Ocean is a deity.  Alluring and persuasive.  Upon my introduction to the sea I gained understanding. I suddenly knew the power of its pull.  I was persuaded to be its loyal friend. The sound of moving water now forever echos in my ear, and it is an an echo that my mother and I share.


We now cherish the sand between our toes the same. If I need to be consoled because it has been too long since I’ve seen the Ocean her shoulder is there, and now I can truly be the shoulder I never was. An already close bond of mother and daughter has been strengthened by a mutual friend, the Big Blue.



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