I had the good fortune to spend much of my childhood living in a small town on the shores of the Atlantic Ocean. Our little resort community of 10,000 people swelled to 100,000 in the summer months. My friends and I all worked in the shops and restaurants along the beach. After work we enjoyed the summer pleasures of swimming and walking the boardwalk.
Over time, however, I grew to appreciate the other seasons even more. Without the distractions of the honky-tonk arcades, cotton candy stands and so on, the beach in the fall, winter and spring returned to a much more natural state. I loved walking the quiet sands of October. I was entranced by the tidal pools of April. But most of all, I was thrilled by the power of the sea, the crashing waves, the roaring of the wind every time a winter nor'easter would blow through. As odd as it may sound, my favorite time to be down at the beach was during a storm in the middle of January. Of course I was safely settled on land--protected from the ocean's wrath by a three foot thick sea wall. Occasionally at high tide, waves would crash over the top, casting small rocks and salt water onto Ocean Boulevard, by my own life was never threatened.
Sometimes I would see a ship on the horizon, or a lobster boat close in. The small boats would pitch and toss all about. I sometimes wondered why the lobster men even bothered on such days. I worried they'd get thrown overboard. Their very lives were at stake. But still they went out on their daily journey, even in stormy weather. For them it was not just a way of life, it was life.
When we're honest about it that's how it always works when we are on a voyage, for every journey has its risks. Whenever we put out to seas, there is the possibility of a storm. The brightest day can grow cloudy. The smallest breeze can turn into a gale. We can choose to just stay in port. We can be so frightened, so worried, that we refuse to budge. Or we can take the risks.
(Photo Credit: New Hampshire Real Estate)
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