This was my life last week:

Yes, it was nice. Laying on the sand, watching the rolling waves and hearing the sounds of an undertow dragging against the pebbly ocean floor, we got to talking about how a cottage on a cliff by the sea would be great right about now.

It’s a popular pipe dream — the quaint little house, surrounded by nature, intended for drinking steaming mugs of coffee, wandering out onto the balcony with the sun beaming down, writing or reading or thinking.

The beach is definitely the site of my dream house. The forest can be peaceful and serene, but so isolating. The mountains are majestic with epic views, but could be so quiet. The city has hustle and bustle, a new scene on every block, but it’s easy to forget yourself in the rush of people.

The beach, with all the swooping seagulls and crashing waves, would be just the chaotic background I’d need to really think, really breathe. Distracting for the moments when you can’t be alone with yourself any longer, yet mellow as a backdrop to a full day’s work.

It would be nice, right? ::collective sigh::

But perhaps cozy beach retreats are dreams for a reason. They’re idyllic, pie-in-the-sky destinations that we think would be perfect, just a wee bit calmer and freer than life now. But that’s not real, and probably would not make me any happier. Imagine when the hurricanes come?

Life is for pushing through the clamor and the obstacles and finding a way, just where and how you are.

But I wouldn’t mind another week on that beach 🙂