I've talked a lot about how my childhood vacations at the beach have formed my connection to the sand and the sea, even now. I've been amazingly lucky, in a way that I never dreamed, to live near the ocean (on both coasts!) for the bulk of my adult life. The sea is always good to me.
I've had in my mind that I'd like to get my camera out to the ocean and the bay more than I do, and really, it's silly that I don't. It's a simple matter of taking the time. Last weekend, I got up early, grabbed my sweatshirt (and a surprisingly willing Neel), and we just went.
What a gift to see the sky turn from silver to pink to peach to bright golden light. What a gift to be there to witness the blooming coral orb slide above the horizon, its beams touching the waves for the first time.
Granted, it was early. But this was the weekend right after Neel's dad fell ill, and we had the weight of worry and decisions heavy upon us. With the beach to ourselves and the glory of the sunrise before us, this moment to take a breath was just what we needed. The air was crisp and the sand was cool and the sky magnificent. When faced with all that, your worries can feel small. The way they should.