go to the beach

Go to the beach.

Go to the beach, because it's been months since you have. 

Go to the beach because it's easy and cheap. Thirty-five minutes on the train and $1.75. Go because there are millions of people who would if they could, but they can't. Because it's cool and cloudy and there might be a beautiful sunset.

Go to the beach even though it doesn't move you. Just go. Go to see sand under your feet instead of asphalt. Walk until you get away from the noise of the pier, the screaming children, the music and the lights. Stay close to the water line, let waves hit your ankles and wet your jeans. Hear snippets of conversations, see a hundred people making memories.

Go to the beach and find a spot as far away from everyone as you can. Throw a blanket down. Plant your phone in your shoes and your headphones in your ears. Lay back and let dusk wash over you. No sunset tonight, and the slight Monday crowd is clearing out quickly.

Go to the beach and stay later than feels right. Night comes abruptly this time of year; it's nine o'clock before you know it. Someone will be shooing you along soon. Stay until they do. 

You know it won't be long now, right? There's a feeling in you building, an anticipation that tightens your throat in a way that thrills but also scares. You don't have to be scared, though. The world turns and everything changes, including you and all that surrounds you. It's been a hard time. It's been a long time. You were lost and hurt and alone even when you weren't, but these things go in cycles. 

It won't be long now. Good things you can't yet see are coming. Every day is a step towards the new. All you have to do is be you and believe. 

Go to the beach and believe.