Way of the Waves

There was a slight crisp air that held the warmth of the summer sun. It was a calm evening in Maine with little sound, except for the constant waves rolling in and out. The sun was still setting as we sank our feet in the dampened sand from high tide. I always preferred low tide over high tide just for the solemn fact that you could gaze at more of the ocean. I feel as though the whistle of the waves is calling me in closer. As we walked along the shores, imprints of shells washed up on the beach started fading away the closer we got to the water. I dipped my toes in, and a sudden chill grew over me, but I stayed to feel the cold. The touch of the water felt as though silk was rushing over my feet. I stepped out and headed back to the shore. From there I looked out over the ocean. I became mesmerized by the colors that brighten the night. I could feel a little breeze blow past me ever so often, that carried with it the smell of the ocean. It wasn't a strong fish-like smell, but a nice comforting smell of fresh open air. One that brings back memories of past days on the beach. It was a nice moment full of joy. I wasn’t worrying about anything. It was a matter of just living in that moment and not taking the beautiful ones for granted.