I grew up six blocks away from the Pacific Ocean. The sand, the palms, the sun slowly sinking under the water were sights I took for granted. What I miss now are the sounds of the beach. The gulls, the repetitive crash and retreat of the waves, the wind.
Memories of birthday picnics by the pier, tiny cucumber sandwiches with the crusts cut off, lemonade, cupcakes. Rollerblading in Venice Beach, melting ice cream cones in hand, stopping to try on Indian jewelry or peer in the used book shop.
Always the sunlight, always an impossibly blue sky, and the ocean stretching out to the horizon like a promise of home.