if i lived by the sea and woke up every morning to the timeless symphony of water and sand, i’d make a good living writing greetings for cards meant to convey feelings that aren’t worth the effort speech requires.
i love you like the ocean loves the sand. i’ll kiss you the way the sea kisses the shore. as sure as the tide comes in, i’ll be there for you. the stuff teenage girls fall for and men employ to their advantage.
when i first began my walk, deliberately stepping into the remnants of sea foam on the beach, i thought about how inspiring it must be to live close to the waves. i thought…how easy it would be to write a fluffy, romantic best seller (did nicholas sparks have a place by the seaside?) if i watched the sun dip below the horizon each day!
but then i realised how absurd it was. nothing is ever simply just inspired. writers read to fill themselves with vocabulary and style, they choose words with purpose and phrase them carefully. it takes more than a beautiful sunrise and the gentle lapping of waves against bare feet to bring about a literary work that has millions talking about it.
unless you’re e.l. james or stephanie meyer, of course, but i guess accidents happen sometimes.
and that’s where the idea of being inspired just enough to write greeting cards crept into my mind. it’s good enough, if it means having the beach in my backyard. i don’t need to be a reknowned author. i just need to not be a doctor.
one morning of quiet contemplation with my painted toes buried in wet sand and i’m already sold by the idea of leaving this profession for a lotus eater’s life, composing sweet nothings for hearts that only long for so much.