the edge
as an introverted pre-teen living in coastal South Carolina, my favorite wintertime activity was slipping quietly out of the house to go walk on the beach alone.
I always got in trouble.
it was always worth it.
the ‘Grand Strand’ back then was a pretty desolate place in the winter. sometimes the air hung so heavily with salty mist, it was easy to pretend that I had the entire planet to myself, which brought me great joy. I would walk the beach and ponder, as deeply as an 11 or 12 year old could, about life & my place in it. straddling the waterline, with one foot intentionally on the sand & the other playing peek-a-boo with the spent remnants of crashing waves, I was perpetually in awe of the sheer vastness and utter indifference of that ocean. standing there alone, on the edge of a continent, I could feel infinity vibrating through my tiny frame. I was hooked. the ocean holds all of time in a liquid embrace, spinning it like a centrifuge & spitting out the relics. it’s both chaos and infinite possibility & potential.
