there is just something about the beach...

Where the water meets the world and where the land meets the sea. There is something so encapsulating, so breathtaking and thought provoking, about the distinction between what we can live on and what we cannot live under. And, although an arguably overused sentiment, the beach is truly an escape for the mind. 

As I approach my move abroad for college, I have noticed a shift in the way in which I view the relationships in my life. A shift specifically centered around the way in which I take in moments of joy and truly allow myself to be fully present in said moments. Although I am unsure as to whether or not the reasoning behind this shift in perspective is due to the realization of the distance in which I will move in just five short months or if simply due to the fact that I am growing up, I am extremely grateful and appreciative to have been able to have had it. I say yes more, I take in more, I smile more. Not that I was ever cold or distant when I was with the individuals in which I hold dear before, but that I recognize that these moments with these individuals and these feelings of joy and serenity are specific to this phase of my life and are unrepeatable and distinct from any others in which I have had before, or will have. I do also recognize that I will feel joy and happiness in my future, but not through the lens in which I am currently viewing and living life through, never through the eyes of eighteen year old Fallon ever again. 

Sunday night we planned a beach trip, and Wednesday morning we left. I enjoy this part of being a teenage girl, old enough to be her own individual with her own thoughts and morals, but simultaneously young enough to lack the burdens and responsibilities of real "adult" life, at least for a moment. No kids to find a babysitter for and no vacation time needed off from work, just a car, her best friends, a place to stay, and somehow that combination becomes the perfect recipe for a girl's trip, of course minus all of the obvious logistics of a vacation such as groceries and gas. However, in reference to my new found shift in perspective, a change in my lens or prescription if you will, this trip was more than just a change in scenery. This trip was countless belly laughs and dance parties and creations of new inside jokes. This trip was a basket which now holds a plethora of positive memories that I can choose from to reminisce and reflect on as time continues to pass, as my lens continues to change. It is because these memories have been made through this lens of mine that allows them to be so prominent in my mind, these are my teenage years and I am spending them with the best people I could ever imagine. I am so grateful for the life in which I am currently living. 

In addition to my perspective on life shifting, my perspective on the beach is shifting as well. When I was four the beach was a place that my mom would let me eat junk food because health was never a question on vacation. When I was six the beach was a place I would avoid because the salt water burned my eyes and the sand felt weird on my feet. When I was nine the beach was a place with a lazy river that I could truly be as lazy as I desired. When I was thirteen the beach was a place cute boys could be found that I could go crabbing with every night of the trip until one of us left. (boys I would never see again, but cute boys none-the-less) This specific trip however gave room for yet another shift on my perspective of the beach. I am eighteen and the beach is currently a place for memories to be either made or forgotten. The beach is an escape of the mind. The beach is where age, agendas, and transgressions, are forgotten and additionally, unimportant. The only items of importance at the beach for eighteen year old Fallon are the time in which the sun is going to be at it's peak and how many red flags are flying on the lifeguard's stand. (the more flags, the more fun crashing in the waves can be) 

As I laid on the beach, basking in the sun with the smell of sunscreen and sea salt practically glued to the inside of my nose, I couldn't help but to take in all that was around me, all that was occurring in the lives of my fellow beach-goers. I couldn't help but to sonder. To my friends it may have just been a few hours in the Florida sun to work on their tans, but for the couple with their new born baby it may have been their first vacation since bringing their love into human form, for the grandmother reading her book in the shade it may have been her first time away from home since her husband had passed, for the family of six playing paddle ball in the dunes it may have been a step away from schedules and a time to truly just exist in each other's company. Regardless of their circumstances and reasoning for being on the same beach as myself, the desire for peace and an escape was present and prominent enough to drive us all there. There is just something about the beach. There's something about physically feeling the sun soaking into your skin, there's something about diving into the water and tasting the salt when you inevitably dive into the wave which was far too big for you to dive into, there's something about sitting on the beach as the sun sets and watching the darkness creep in and the light slowly fade while surrounded by your favorite people, there is something about walking out of the water wondering if the on-looking moms are staring at you because they find your bathing suit immodest or because the wish they were back in your shoes. There is just something about being in a place which allows you to just be however it is you wish to be, a feeling commonly only found when in nature. 

At sunset, we walked past a grandmother hosing off her granddaughter who was absolutely covered in sand. Of course my mind, which if you have read every blog up until this point I am sure you know uncomfortably well by now, went immediately to the deep and oddly philosophical thoughts in which were brought out by the sight. As the grandmother laughed while hosing the sand off of her squealing grandchild, I knew exactly the bubble of bliss in which the both of them were surrounded by. The grandmother was laughing at the simplicity of her granddaughter's attention span, and the granddaughter was squealing because the water was too cold for her liking. As the grandmother washed away the sand she smiled because she knew that was all that was being washed away, that the memories in which she will hold dearly for the rest of her life were not being washed down the drain with the day's sand.

If you've made it this far in this blog, I applaud you, it's one of my longest yet. Unintentionally, of course. But I hope that you have gained something from it, whether that be a realization of what lens you yourself are currently viewing your life from, and if you need to potentially change that lens, or a realization of how much truly goes on in my brain and how weird I actually am. 

I love my life. I am grateful to be living it. And, furthermore, I am grateful to be surrounded by people who make waking up every day so damn exciting.  

Fallon