I was 22 years old before I ever got the opportunity to see an ocean. Living in Central Ohio, there were not many nearby.
When I asked my parents about whether they would take me so I could see…well, the sea…they told me it was no different from Hoover Lake down the road, where we fished.
“It’s just water, with shorelines, and maybe a little bit more sandy.”
Being a kid, I bought into their version and settled for my nearby body of water.
But when I was 22 years of age and arrived in Jacksonville, Florida, I had a couple of extra hours on my hands. I drove down to the beach, parked my car, got out and started to trudge across the sand. In a matter of seconds I came up over a rise and there it was.
The Atlantic Ocean in all of its glory.
Not only were the beaches much more than mere piles of sand, but the ocean was magnificent–nearly angry. It pelted the land with its waves, foaming at its mouth, eager to express its supremacy. And when I kicked my shoes off and went down into the water, I was astounded at the vigor and energy with which the waves struck my body.
As I found out with many things during my life, my parents’ definitions and interpretations were often flawed.
The Atlantic Ocean was much more interesting than Hoover Lake.
Thank you for enjoying Words from Dic(tionary) — J.R. Practix