A Scene at the Ocean

My first time experiencing the coastline was on a family vacation to Myrtle Beach, at the happy age of nine; old enough to enter the ocean without having to hold my mother’s hand but still too young to travel the boardwalk alone with my cousins and siblings as they discovered the interesting city life. Still, the shops and people were hardly what had my attention the first time I got to see the edge of my known world.

Looking out to the edge of the horizon when all that is visible is frothy blue water is more minimizing than any set of mountains or plains. I remember the ocean being vast on the side of being frightening yet alluring. The smell largely contributed to the alluring part, and was so aromatic that it would be hard to describe it in any way other than simply the ocean. Salty to the point of having a taste in the back of my throat, it filled my nose and my mouth until no other smell was able to permeate.

Also unique to the ocean experience was the feel of the sand, not very similar to the bagged grains that were dumped into my sandbox as a child. It was deceivingly soft in some areas, until the bits of glass and shell worked to the top of the piles and clung to my feet.