I swear I’ll stop complaining.

Any gent who has dated me can assure you that I’m by no means low-maintenance. I’m pretty realistic about the fact that I like nice things and certainly can’t claim to have inexpensive tastes. As I’m learning this summer though, what apparently really makes me happy has more to do with where I am and more specifically my proximity to the ocean.

I can hear in my head, completely clearly, the hollow sound waves make when you’re anchored somewhere and they’re lapping against the side of the boat. The gentle sway of being rocked back and forth, bobbing with the roll of each wave is like a phantom limb – it’s not there but I can feel it. Summer habits of waking up and putting on a bathing suit, refilling a water bottle, and throwing a book into the car have become wishlist items I have to wait to check off. That old adage “you don’t know what you’ve got ‘til it’s gone” has been echoing in my mind for what feels like weeks — serves me right for spending every summer in Rhode Island and not realizing how spoiled I was.

If I had the ability to teleport (stop laughing, you know you’ve wished for it too) I would be up to my eyes in salty, icy water listening to the dull roar of waves hit the shore. I’d be watching flickering rays of sunlight filter through the sparkling surface of the water on to my skin, admiring the perfect swirls of sand being stirred up by my toes hitting the ground. The sun would be in my eyes, dancing along the tops of waves, rippling and dividing, coming back together again, golden and perfect. Luckily (for everyone), I’ll be able to do just that in a few weeks, and this angst-fest can be alleviated.

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