in good hands.

The day before I left Florida I walked to the beach and as I reached the edge of the water, I cried.

I'm slightly embarrassed to admit that. I mean, what a sap, right? But, it's true. I stood there and sobbed for a few moments. I curled my toes into the soft, warm sand and watched as the waves lapped, swallowing everything underneath them in one big crash. It was beautiful. But this isn't the only reason I stood there like a fool looking sad. No, it wasn't just that.

It was because it's hard to say goodbye, especially to something that you had shared so much of yourself with for 6 months of your life. A deep, mysterious swirling void that was both a comfort, a source of inspiration, and an escape - that's what the ocean was for me. A confidant. A place that seemed to know,... you know? And a place that was constant. The tide came in, the tide went out. The waves never stopped moving toward the shore. The smell, the way the salt dried on your skin, the way each sunset literally took your breath away, no matter how grand. For all the times I felt so lost, discombobulated, and without a sense of "home", the ocean was a constant place of reassurance.

So sure, I cried, but understandably so. I knew in the weeks ahead of me I'd find similar comfort in the open road, the southern sky, and the snowy mountains of the west. But I left a part of me there that day on the beach. And you know what? That's alright with me. I know it's in good hands.