As winter continues to stray into the calendar spring, I can't help but daydream about going to the ocean. But I would

be fooling myself if I thought it was always springtime at the shore! This photo was taken on December 24th, 2013.

I had gone to Westbrook, ME to spend the holiday with my daughters. Despite the fact that there was snow, it was still

a treat to be able to walk on the beach at Christmas. Sadly, 3 months later, I have not been back to visit the

ocean. This is the longest time span that I have gone without visiting the ocean in roughly two years. 

During the last couple of years of my grandmother's life (she passed away last August at the age of 103), I tried to visit her

every couple of months, sometimes more frequently during the warmer weather.  Each visit to my grandmother

also included a visit to the ocean.

My journeys to Maine hold so many memories for me. And they truly were more than just trips, they were journeys.

I wonder if my grandmother chose to stay in Maine, not far from the southern beaches because she knew her

grandchildren loved to visit the ocean and could visit her and the ocean together. Maybe she knew that as her life

was winding down, those visits to the ocean would hold more meaning. The walks on the beach carried more

emotions, the power of the natural world held more answers,  and I came away knowing more, always knowing more.

Every time I visited my grandmother, she would ask me if I had been to the beach yet and which beach I visited or

planned on visiting. If it was afternoon and I hadn't reacquainted myself with the ocean yet, she would suggest I cut

our visit short and go to the shore before dark. She knew as well as I did, that the ghosts of youthful days were dancing

in the waves and that the taste of sandy ham sandwiches and tart lemonade lingered on the shore. She knew that

if I kept those memories alive, a part of me would stay youthful. I felt bad that she could no longer go to the beach

with me, that she could no longer feel the soft sand shift between her toes and feel the salty air blow across her

cheeks. So I scooped up a baggie full of sand and brought it to her.  It was a gift that held so many memories,

answered so many questions and held peace. She showed that sand to everyone who visited her and told them

"Grammie couldn't go to the beach any more, so Lisa brought the beach to Grammie."

Is there someone in your life, who needs you to bring the beach to him/her? Don't wait until summer, the beach

is nice this time of year.

Beach in Winter