The Sound of Waves

I hear the sound of the ocean waves coming in.  It is neither too loud nor too quiet.  It is a background noise that somehow soothes and comforts.  I see them whitecap and brush the sandline.  I see birds just ahead of the waves, big and small, picking at the tiny treats that come in the wake of the waves.  There is only an occasional beachcomber.  It must be too early for them.

The sky is overcast.  In places, it must be raining.  Or soon will be.  I don't mind it.  For me, the beach is a visual treat.  So it is more enjoyable without having to worry about  heat stroke. Later, if it is not coming up a gully washer, we will walk the beach ourselves.  Benjamin, our 11 year old son, will get out into it if the weather stays clear.  And me, trying to be a dutiful father, will go out with them to keep him safe.  Being more sociable than me, he will probably find some kid down from New Jersey or Canada, and be lifelong friends with him within an hour

Why do so many flock to the ocean?  Even people from the Great Lakes region, the land of friggin' lakes, for cryinoutloud, come to the ocean for vacations, or to retire.  Is it a clarion call to return to the womb?  Is it something people do just because so many others do?  Is it the sound of the waves, triggering a neural calm deep within our beings?

I don't know the answer.  I just know, that even for this landlubber, it's true.  There is something about the sound of the waves.  And, if you'll beg my indulgence, right now I'm going to stop analyzing and just enjoy.