We only get a few of these in life.
They are the place equivalent of our very best friends. The ones you were lucky enough to stumble into, and would never be fool enough to let go of. The ones that soak in over many many years, if we’re lucky, a lifetime.
Boca Grande, Florida is one of mine.
|This crane was a real dandy.|
I’m here with my mom on a very undeserved vacation. My only excuse is that I can’t legally work in Canada, so…
Anyway, the ocean and I had some catching up to do.
|Oh, how I’ve missed her.|
Boca Grande is the smell of Coppertone sunscreen and hair full of saltwater dried in the sun. It is freckles you forgot you had gathering on your nose. Loose tank tops blowing in the breeze, white sand, excited dolphin sightings, my mom’s salads–with hearts of palm, artichoke hearts and avocados topped with olive oil and lemon juice–and an endless supply of La Croix mineral water in cans.
It is playing tennis with Dad, even though I’m terrible after another whole year of not playing and reading books, with Mom, and a thousand other traditions and memories….
..and comparing last night’s sunset to tonight’s.
And an ice cold beer to toast the moment the sun melts into the horizon, knowing how good you have it, and drinking it all up–every last drop.
Boca Grande is an ocean as still as glass.
The same old pier languishing–picture perfect–in the water.
And endless blue.
The ocean and I, we have an ancient conversation. How can this water know me so well while remaining an eternal mystery to me? What a funny feeling to return to this shore year after year–and feel the same to the core, and yet entirely different.