With my toes in the sand, my eyes sway back and forth from the horizon to the endless wave that laps at the shore. From the frothy white foam to the grains of sand that tumble over one another in an attempt to rebuild what the tide is pulling away. I breathe deeply. No place in the world could stir in me such a level of contentment as here.
Emerald Isle, on the coast of North Carolina, in the United States of America, where I (a single, unchaperoned woman) can freely move about without fear of punishment. I revel in the freedom. I relish it. I have never known anything else, yet I do not want to take it for granted for a solitary second. Being unfettered is intoxicating. Especially on the beach. Can’t you just hear the waves, crashing melodramatically to the shore, pulling back to the big deep in one quick exhale, only to do it all again? The birds overhead cry out, adding their own voice to the symphony; the dog down by the pier calls out to his people, and they laugh in delight as he frolics and splashes them in a familiar game of chase. I breathe in again. If I could, I would inhale the whole scene, every sound, into my very soul. Maybe as a child, it was lost on me to be grateful for the simple places and the quiet times–but no more.
Not a few years past 40. On this side of the curve, I know better than to take it all for granted. It’s some beautiful world we live in, vibrant and Technicolor and perfect in its imperfection! The question rumbles through me: where do I feel grateful? Such a simple question. Such a complex answer. I feel grateful on this little patch of the Earth. Where the summer months find it crowded, but in the chill of November it is quiet, left to its own devices to grow and live. I feel thankful in my own skin, finally able to be the me I am deep within, regardless of what is reflected in the mirror. Who I am is defined by something so much greater than the 17-year-old version of me thought I was.
I feel admiration for the people who, like me, are perfect in their imperfections and merely trying to survive as a better version of themselves. Certainly, I am grateful that I live in a world that has beautiful coastlines, majestic mountain tops, lush fields of flowers and thriving plants, with trees that tower in a loving shelter and the wind that cools with a lover’s touch. What a world to live in–rich and deep and true. I bury my toes a little deeper, sigh a little longer. What were those worries I couldn’t shake 20 minutes ago? They seem so small, like a speck of sand thrown to the bottom of the ocean. Inconsequential. Ridiculous in comparison to the full scope of grandeur that this world has to offer.
This moment of peace reminds me: I am blessed. Above and beyond anything I could ever wish or hope for, past the scope of my dreams and straight into the realm of unimaginable happiness. Family who know me, and like me still. Friends who choose to be my family, and hold me accountable to a higher standard of living. Work that keeps my brain sharp, play that rounds the rough edges, and a world–oh yes, a world that just drips with the beautiful. Where am I grateful? Here, in this life that I call my own; that is the throne of my gratitude, now and forevermore.
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This.is. Beautiful!