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07/04/2024 12:00 AMWhat is in my beach bag? More than I need and everything I want to have a complete day at the beach, park, lake, or picnic. The contents are practical, time-tested, and efficient. Packing my beach bag is second nature to me, a skill honed over many years.
Growing up on the South Shore of Long Island, my mother used to take my siblings and me to Robert Moses State Park. Established in 1908 in honor of master builder Robert Moses, this five-mile beach is the westernmost end of Fire Island and accessible by car through a series of bridges. For a simple toll and parking pass fee, my mother could take a station wagon full of children and gear for an entire day of activity. With the benefit of the additional watchful eyes of lifeguards, it was a wonderful place to enjoy long summer days.
Our beach bags, as there were several, held everything we needed to be fully self-sustaining at the beach. Blankets, towels, sunscreen, sandwiches, cookies, paper cups, and napkins. Along with sand chairs, umbrellas, a jug or beverages, and a bucket of beach toys, no child was empty-handed as we walked down the beach and set up camp next to the lifeguard stand. We arrived early each day and always seemed to secure the same spot. My mother would bring a book and a few magazines, but as children, we needed only the waves and the sand to keep us entertained for the five to six hours a day we would be there.
Except for my college years, I have never lived far from the beach. For me, the distance to the ocean, not just Long Island Sound but rather the Atlantic Ocean, is my connection to a deep and soulful solace. A day listening to the rhythm of the crashing waves settles me.
Earlier this summer, I spent a few days on Cape Cod. With the coming of the one-year anniversary of my husband’s passing, I had planned the trip months ago. Taking this space for myself was healing and reflective. I woke to the faint sound of the ocean two blocks away. After reading my daily meditations, I biked 20 miles on the Cape Cod Rail Trail. The quiet hours of the ride opened my mind to the restorative purpose of the trip. Back at the cottage, I packed a beach bag to spend the remainder of the day at the beach.
Since I had brought all my own food for my retreat, I was able to make a comforting tuna melt on sourdough bread while I packed for the afternoon. Into my small canvas tote, I placed everything I needed - a journal, a pen, some lined paper, a book, and a water. After wrapping the sandwich in aluminum foil, I added a snack bag of nuts, a banana, and napkins, grabbed my chair, and headed off. It was chillier than I thought, and I was grateful for the warm sandwich and the sweatshirt I had donned.
Not long after Paul’s passing, my friend Bev gave me the book A Year by the Sea, Thoughts of an Unfinished Woman by Joan Anderson. Like so many other books I tried to start this past year, it was filed on a shelf unread. At the beach, with only the sound of the wind and the waves, there is little to distract. Ironically, the book chronicles the story of a woman who goes to her family's Cape Cod cottage to discover herself. It has been a long time since I have relaxed enough to fully engage in reading. This time I spent reading at the beach was a precious gift. Returning to the cottage, I wrote in my journal for an hour before wrapping up my day. I slept soundly that night and repeated the day when I woke.
Daily meditations, a bike ride, a grilled cheese sandwich, reading at the beach. I was amazed at how good I felt from the simplest of days. I was ready to return home. The trip had armed me with a new hope that all would be well. I was an active participant in this healing of my soul. At the suggestion of my friend, I ordered Joan Anderson’s sequel, A Walk on the Beach. I am excited about the next step in my cycle of transformation this summer will bring.