My Side

I sit perfectly comfortable in the shade cast by a sturdy beach umbrella. I feel the breeze rush around me, the waves filling my ears, overtaking my other senses. I feel at peace, yet I want to wander. So I get up, walk where the water rises and falls against my ankles, dodging this child and that as I make my way to my side of the island. Just up ahead I can see the rocks. They cut off the beach, trailing into the ocean waters. I find an open spot and weave my way through them to the other side. To my side. Where tourists don’t sit and set up their blankets but local surfers take turns in the wakes of the waves, while others fish. It’s just me and them. A total of about ten of us on this side. The side that seems so unappealing to everyone else, well, that side is my favorite. I walk along that beach feeling more inspired and in awe of the waves. The dunes even seem bigger here, untouched. I take a moment to stand in the ocean. To look at how open it is with only a few human souls vacating it. It feels natural here and free, but I can’t stay as I make my way back to the other side of the island where hundreds gather. My senses are soon numbed again as I make my way back to my chair. To sit peacefully no doubt, but not in the way I’m capable of on my side of the island. The side that feels like me. Free and wild. Rocky and wavy. Open and fresh. That is me.