Only If the sea could tell stories

One thing I really used to enjoy as a kid but not so much now is going to the beach. Thinking about what changed brought me to this picture, one of my earliest trips to the beach which I can remember. It was to be quite the  fun-packed day for a 4 year old as it was previously agreed upon in the family meeting that the park would be a stop on the way to the beach. I still remember the slides and how much fun I had in them. When it was time for the beach, I got ready to execute my carefully laid out plan for the beach which was to play with the sand, maybe build something in the sand and so on. Even after having such a sand-centric itenary, what I ended up doing was just standing there holding my father’s hand with my sister, just feeling the waves. It was almost time for the sun to set and It was too beautiful a sight to miss eventhough I would not comprehend what I had witnessed for a long long time. It was a couple years later that I went back to the same sea, just a different beach, to perform my great grandmother’s final rites. The sea still made that eerie noise and like a little kid it still snatched away whatever was in its way. Not entirely understanding the permanence of what had happened, that day I was every bit as excited to be there as the 4 year old who went to the beach that day. That day as I watched the sun slowly go down, it gave me a rare sense of security. After all, it is one of the very few things that you can guarantee to be still there when you show up the next day. Years later, whenever I go to the sea, it welcomes me like an old friend and I always can’t help but say: “Damn this sucker hasn’t changed one bit”. Watching the waves wash away the silly writings I made in the sand reminded me the volatility of it all. The sea has probably seen it all; love, death and everything in between. Too bad the sea cant keep a blog and write stories, because I know many people who would kill to read that.