I recently took a trip to the beach. I walked along the dock, looking out into the water and thinking that this was my last chance. My last chance to be young. My last chance to have one of those cliche summers. To not have an internship or job to worry about.
As I was walking back from the beach, I heard music crooning in the distance. When I approached my destination, two guys came into my field of vision. They were singing and playing guitar on their front porch. I looked at them, and thought about talking to them. But something stopped me. Something made me conclude my trip with that unfinished moment. With that moment that most people wouldn’t even classify as a moment. But to me, it was a story in the making. It was beautiful in its simplicity with the sound of the guitars and that guy’s voice and the beach behind us. With the sidewalks and the locals and the summer people. With that long dock that no longer felt like an end to me, but instead, a continuation of what I truly love. And it was then that I realized that I don’t always enjoy the “typical” teenage stuff. I’d rather interpret the beauty that I observe and write a story. I’d rather have the power to imagine than have every detail handed to me. I find most beautiful, unforgettable things when I’m not looking. When I’m not trying to create the perfect moment on the beach with the perfect people and this one final grand moment tied neatly into a bow to conclude all that I’ve done.
I’m getting older. But as I do, that dock doesn’t get shorter. The summer breeze doesn’t calm down. The journey doesn’t end here. I’m not lost. There’s still so much for me to find. Anywhere. Everywhere.
So I let the sound of the music fill my ears, crafting the kind of summer night that was so much better than I could’ve ever planned. It was the perfect moment. And I let it be just that; not thinking about what I’d do when it was gone or what came next. I was just there: the only place, in that moment, that I needed to be.