I'm on my way to my sister's house, where she has lived for decades. I know she lives sort of near the ocean because I walked past the beach two years ago during a 5k. For many, many years I have passed Sea Street. Where does it go? How far is the beach?Inquiring minds want to know.
I pass Sea Street, look at the clock, decide I'm plenty early enough, and make a pact with myself: I'll drive down Sea Road for no more than four or five miles. If there's no water anywhere, then I'll turn around.
A little over three miles in, my GPS is showing blue. Could it be?
Suddenly the road ends, the scenic vistas opens up, and I am at the shoreline. It's a gray day, the kind a photographer loves more than a beach bum. It also could be the fact that it's about 17 degrees outside as to why it's pretty much deserted out here.
There's a major storm hitting south of here, but the sky for miles shows natures wrath. I snap some pictures and open the windows so I can hear the surf. I close the windows relatively quickly in case seagulls fly into my car and reenact a scene from Hitchcock's The Birds.
By the way, my sister lives about 3.7 miles from the ocean. I hope she knows how lucky she truly is ... about the ocean; not about having me for a sister. Okay, maybe about both.
