"We are tied to the ocean. And when we go back to the sea, whether it is to sail or to watch - we are going back from whence we came."
~ John F. Kennedy
Chapter Three: The Oregon Coast
I come to the coast as a reminder of how small and fragile I am. Standing beside monstrous old growth trees, roots weaving themselves like one would crochet a sweater under red soil. Waterfalls with water so powerful to unravel those patterns and uproot such a massive, strong piece of the forest. Then there’s the ocean. Expansive beaches and angry waves. Tides that draw you in and sunsets that paint the world in hues impossible to find without a messy painter’s pallet.
I come to the coast because I belong here. And to take a piece of her majesty home with me.
Upon my arrival you will see the salt painted through my wild hair. Freckles left by the sun and wind on my flushed cheeks. And a sparkle lit by mother nature’s fury deep within my eyes. And I promise that when I come back, weary and fulfilled from these travels, I will happily share that gift with you the way she has with me.
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