Restored

We drove to the ocean, Jean and I, for just two nights and had a room on the beachfront on the second floor where we could just lie in bed with the terrace door open early morns and listen to the waves coming in. Oooh what a blessing. Just lying there watching the ocean and the birds and the sun shining on that little white cloud. And most of all, doin’ nothing. Absolutely nothing. What a glorious healing experience. Generally, Jean is not adept at doing nothing. Somehow she managed beautifully. Oh we went out and had some wonderful seafood dinners and even enjoyed a pleasant dinner with a nephew.  That first dinner was so bountiful that we snacked on it for breakfast next morning. Imagine cold shrimp and grouper and hushpuppies and still crisp salad.  All of that plus the ocean sounds and feel of the sea breeze. I rode an old fat wheeled beach bicycle and scratched that one off my bucket list. First time in about twenty years and I didn’t fall once.  I walked on the beach a couple of hundred feet and picked up a couple of shells. We stopped twice at the Dairy Queen and ate Dilly Bars. That alone is worth the drive to the ocean. You read about folks spending the summer at the beach. Two weeks at the beach. One week at the beach.  Jean and I spent just two nights at the beach and came home restored. Renewed. The secret?  It was the waves. The sound of the waves. Watchin’ and listenin’ to the waves.  Those glorious, healing waves.