I spent one summer at the beach. Everyday my father would herd me and my younger brother the five blocks down to the ocean where we'd pass most of the afternoon. The days were sweet and blissful and absent of sunscreen and I'm not sure how I got away without ever getting sunburned.
The summer ended, and I went back to school, and at some point I became a young curmudgeon who decided that she didn't like the beach or the sand or the sun. That was around the era that "Your Favorite Band Sucks" started really getting to me and it was far easier to dislike everything than like anything.
But that's okay, because when I changed my mind the beach was still there.
I can imagine living in a different state (maybe) or a different city (perhaps) but I don't think I could ever get too far away from the coast. I'd miss the salt in the air and the sound of the waves in the morning when the streets are quiet.
This morning a Renewed (but still Recovering) Tech Support took me to a Caribbean restaurant not too far from the ocean. Afterwards we walked down and across the sand and stuck our fingers in the water.
When I got back into the car I had sand in my shoes. I had to get to the job. The job is about twenty minutes inland, so far away that even in the quiet mornings you can't smell salt and hear waves. And there are good things about this place, but rather than taking my sneakers off and shaking them out, I let a little bit of beach come with me.