The first time I saw the ocean I was 19 years old. My best friend and I were on a road trip to her home state of California. There I was on the beaches of Huntington Beach, just in awe. It was perfect, it was pure and the ultimate freedom. I didn't even think it was real at first. My only representation of the ocean and sunny beaches were in movies and TV shows.
But here I was reaching out to landscape I didn't have the capacity to imagine. It was real, a wondering scene of life.
In Idaho, you are surrounded at every angle of a snowcapped mountain. Block your view, North, East, South, West. It was countless trips to West Yellowstone, a national treasure. Or maybe trips to the biggest cities were four hours away. But I grew to resent those mountains, I envisioned them as a prison. Big beautiful bars, I couldn't go past. That is what living in a small town, and a past tense state gives you when you live in it for twenty-plus years.
It put a barrier on my mind. Something I felt I couldn't surpass.
I am beyond grateful for the experience that this friend gave me. She opened my eyes to a new world, a different place. It didn't matter if I fit in or not, because no one was looking. No one was judging my steps, hesitant to the sandy shore. I held myself back and wondered if the glorious scene before me, was meant for me. A simple gift, an offering of confidence and experience.
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