I have had a love affair with the beach since –well, my earliest memory.

The sound of the surf as it rolls onto the shore is a comfort to me. The sand between my toes and the fresh, salt air are sensory delights.

To me, the beach is an ever-changing scene: boats drift or seem to fly by, with sails that can invoke the colors of the rainbow or resemble white sheets  drying in the breeze. Some bob out far enough that I wonder what they are doing—fishing, or are they out for a cool day on the water? The cruise ships appear to be stationary out in the deep sea, especially at night when their festive lights outline them.

Seashells are the souvenirs of a beach visit. I enjoy walking along the shoreline, stooped over, hunting for a uniquely colored shell or one that is a different shape. I take a few each time, so that I can remember that day at the beach.

When I was a kid, my family went for picnics to a favorite place called Miller’s Beach several times a week. My Dad would arrive home from a steaming hot day at the steel plant. Mom would literally wrap the dinner she had on the stove up in a blanket and we would head off to the freshening breezes of Lake Erie.

We could hardly wait to run to the sand and surf as soon as we arrived. Dinner outdoors was delicious—no matter what was served.

I especially loved to watch the sun go down over Lake Erie—sometimes the sunsets were the proverbial blaze of color. Other times, the sky would turn the color of liquid silver and the water would reflect that back, the orange setting sun a burst of light that made it all even more magical.

I still long for the beach…and feel that same child-like delight at my first glimpse of the ocean.