I grew up by the sea. Technically, that is. While the house I grew up in was right in the heart of what was then a small town, there was always a body of water nearby. A few steps away, and there was a creek we would wade into. The beach was just a 15-minute ride away. The school I went to had windows that framed a pretty view of the bay. I only had to look out, and suddenly I'd be sailing past those boring lessons.
My mother believed in the therapeutic power of fresh air blowing in from the sea. There were the early morning drives to the beach so that we'd have "strong" lungs. A few sniffles and the onset of colds merited a trip to the pier. (It was here, I recently learned, that our younger selves slugged it out to settle some "guy" issues back in high school.)
I have since discovered the wonders of "water" therapy of the not-so-physical kind. There's nothing like the sight of calm waters to soothe frazzled nerves. Or to wash away the stresses of the day.
When I need a quick getaway from the depressing dose of dog bites and death certificates, I head out to my favorite lunch spot: by the baywalk, in one of those faux bamboo sheds. And when I feel like winding down, it's back to the bay for one of those colorful, calming sunsets.
Truly, there is nothing that water can't heal.
My favorite lunch spot
(Yet another) Sorsogon sunset