For several years now I have escaped to the Cape for my one week a year vacation. Each year has taken on its’ own life- whale watch, gluten-free dining, waterfront dining, artistry, organic, exercising/biking, thrifting, antiquing, and then some. This year was different. As usual, I came with no specific expectations other than to be healed by the very nature of being here.
Do you have a place that you are restored? Where you know you can settle in, take a deep breath, and know you have a pulse that is originally yours and not beholden to anything outside of you? For me, that is the Cape. It takes a few days to unwind out of the crazy life of work and home, but then the wind and salt take over.
This year was different. I had no focus. Nothing fell into place. It wasn’t about the food, the towns, the beaches, or even the cottage that I consider my beloved second home.
This year, it was about the people I have met. Why did they come here? Why do they live here? And we talked about the ever progressive erosion of the coastline, the seals and the sharks, the destruction of the local beaches making them inaccessible, and the drug crisis permeating well-to-do family neighborhoods. What has happened to my dose of Cape Cod medicine?
I think this is what happens as you get older. You have fonder memories than new experiences. You have more stories to tell than to create. My hair is gray and now I am called, “Maam.” That just says it all, doesn’t it?! However, I know that the wind, the sun, the waves, the salt, the ions and the sand beneath my feet are healing me as week speak. I know that I need to be here, take deep breaths, and soak my whole self into the ocean. I can’t even possibly soak up enough in a week to last for a year, yet the memories hold me the whole way through.
The picture above is my walk home each night from my favorite beach. That walkway and beach access are completely gone from the ravages of weather. I only have the picture, the memories and the stories. -Dr. Debra