At the end of the summer, standing on an empty, dark beach with my toes in the water gives me a peculiar feeling. Looking at the waves and the endless horizon, I feel as if the undertow could pull me into the water and all the way across the sea to an unknown land. The starry sky above me is just as infinite as the boundless waters lapping at my bare feet. The transcendent sea and sky have the ability to pause reality, enveloping me in a calm bubble that protects me from the worry and anxiety that permeates my actuality. Just as I feel as if I will let the current take me away into this fantastic place, the sound of a train whistle jolts me out of my dreamy revelry. The train that I hear in the distance is taking people back to a city where responsibility overpowers the safe haven offered by the ocean. With the sound and significance of the train whistle ringing in my ears, I reluctantly turn my back on the sublimity of the sea and make my way back up the beach towards civilization.
Going back to school in September gives me the same uneasy feeling of standing on the shore with the knowledge of reality behind me. Summer at home offers me the safe haven of the ocean. In the summer, I get to sleep in my bedroom filled with pictures capturing my youth, books that I read when I first recognized the wonder and escape offered by reading, and the bed that I slept in before my first day of kindergarten and after my high school graduation. In the summer, I spend time with the kids whom I organized lemonade stands with and cheered next to at high school pep rallies. Summer at home grounds me to the life I knew before going off to college. I feel familiar and comfortable and, at home, I am absolutely sure of who I am. Coming back to my tiny hometown, I fall back into the routine of my childhood and into the person I was before I saw a bit more of the world.
When the start of the school year comes around, I desperately want to resist stepping out of my secure bubble. As the days grow longer and the air cooler, the train whistle calls me back to my reality as a college student. It is time to board the train back to a place where no one knows what I looked like with missing front teeth. Back to a place where I myself am exposed to new experiences that make me question my preexisting beliefs and interests. It is scary to constantly learn more and more about the world. It is even scarier to learn more about yourself.
Avon-by-the-Sea, NJ
Maybe the effect of the ocean goes beyond merely offering a safe place. The sound of the sea not only calms me, but it also reminds me about how truly mysterious and alive the sea is. Leaving home again, I am stepping into unknown waters that will revitalize me and fuel my quest to discover myself. The secrets of the sea remain mysteries, just as I remain unknown to myself. Maybe the sea seduces me because, underneath, I crave, not security, but the unknown.
The start of the school year is upon me, yet again, and I am reluctant yet excited. There will be more summers on that still, yet ever-changing, beach where I can return to comforting familiarity. However, that train whistle will always pierce the deafening silence to remind and propel me to move forward towards my next adventure.