Searching for Treasures.

You know the summer's a good one when the luxury of two beach trips presents itself. Unexpectedly, we decided to go one last time to say farewell to the ocean and beachy breeze for the season. Anticipation is always high on the long drive there, and after hours spent in long lanes of fast-paced, busy traffic, I'm so ready to get out and stretch my legs in the salty air. Windows come down as traffic slows at the beach bridge that crosses the bay, and the air instantly falls heavy with salt and humidity the second we hit the coast.

Virginia Beach, a traditional vacation spot for us, is the perfect place to get away for a weekend, lounge on the sand (preferably under an umbrella), take a dip in the waves, and get an easy seafood fix. It's the right combination of beach and city to satisfy both those needs for a bit. My favorite part about vacationing there is where we stay. A few blocks past the touristy parts, hidden among the neighborhood streets, is our newly preferred oceanfront hotel.  

At night the continuous backdrop of waves crashing on the shore blissfully relaxes me, and the bright golden sunrise that slowly illuminates the dolphins jumping close to the shore serves as the best alarm clock. These are the best beach times when the people dwindle, the sand cools, and the ocean continues to sing. Up on the high floors, we sleep with the door cracked, letting the glorious grime of the salty sea air and peaceful water melodies fill the entire room.  

And, while I do enjoy lounging by the seaside in the scorching sun of the afternoon as much as the next beach goer, I like exploring the beach, searching for treasures, and examining all the small fascinations along the way. Similar to the forest beds at home, there are so many textures on the beach. The top sand, farthest from the water, is warm and lightly packed, almost feathery. As I walk, my feet sink into the already-formed divots, and grains of hot sand sneak between my sandals and feet, scorching my skin and sending me into a faster jog. But it all begins to change once I make it down to the water's edge. The sand becomes cool and tightly packed, almost like a memory foam mattress that I can feel spring with each step. This is the place where I like to collect shells. New treasures surface each time the tide weaves in and out; some I keep to introduce to the mountain air back home, while others get returned to the ocean after admiring their texture, weight, and intricacy.  

Every time I visit the beach, I happily return to the sacredly silent mountains with a bag full of shells, a suitcase with hidden pockets of sand, and a sunburn or two, no matter how hard I try to avoid it. Sun-kissed, refreshed, and certainly beach fulfilled, I am ready and excited to return to school and buckle down for another semester.