No Real Ending .,,

 

 

 

 

 

"There is no real ending.
It’s just the place where you stop the story.” 

 

Frank Herbert

 

 

Lake Michigan is where I learned to swim, ice skate, and appreciate the comfort of rolling waves.  Up until I went to college, going to the lake was an act of comfort.  No matter what the season, a person would always be allowed to be on the beach.  As my life continued to unfold, my habit of returning to water remained.

 

I was a strong swimmer, a life guard, and the last one out of the pool.  Floating in water, cupped in waves, removed my worries and calmed my challenged soul.  The stress was released from my body and I felt rejuvenated.  All of my rewards were physical.

 

Four summers in high school, I went on canoe trips portaging up into Canada.  It was during this time the shift in appreciation began.  Being on the water for lengths of time, sleeping in a tent, and spending silence in the midst of trees, encouraged my already established love for nature.   

 

As my focus turned more spiritual, a visit  to the sea lifted my awareness to the oneness in all things.  It encouraged the wisdom found only in solitude.  In my visits to Maui, I found the ocean to be exceptionally enchanted.  It lifted my spirit to be on St. Thomas by Megan Bay, forging all of what I knew with all of the unknown as the waves washed in and out.

Now, the month in the penthouse has swiftly passed and it is time to pack up our things and return to the reality of winter in Illinois. Transitioning is made easier by planning to stop half way home to visit again with my daughter and her wonder dog, Hannah.

I cannot say my time by the water has come to an end, as I believe I will always find myself returning to water, again and again.  Whether it is San Francisco or San Diego, I will be called to the water, continuing my love for the pounding waves.  For me, water is a large part of my life having no real ending.  For now, this is just where I stop the story.