As soon as my big toe touches the first grain of white sand, I am at peace. Not the kind of peace one finds after devouring a delicious meal and feeling the perfect full though. No, this kind of peace is associated with Heaven; it’s the type of serenity that you can only achieve under the most perfect conditions, such as when a new life is born. This is the peace that I feel when I am at the beach.
Virginia Beach has always been a perfect getaway. In childhood, I would take the four hour trip with my grandparents to stay for a week, oceanfront in a nice hotel. We would hunt for imperfect seashells along the shoreline and build sand castles that held dreams of being a fairytale princess. Burying my brother in the sand was always the most fun because he loved it when I dumped the slurry of sand and water over his head. The bits of brown sand would stick to his hair in small clumps and my grandma would always yell, “Quit throwing sand everywhere!” I would pretend not to hear what she said over the roar of the waves and continue my burying frenzy until all but his eyes were completely submerged in grainy goodness. Zach would then proceed to rise up out of the mound slowly and scream at the top of his lungs, acting like a scary monster and I’d run into the ocean flailing my arms wildly as If I were being chased by a man with a chainsaw.
As if playing at the beach all day weren’t enough, my grandparents would always take us shopping and out to eat every night. It was a great tradition because as kids, seeing the boardwalk and being able to stay up past 9pm was a feat that we both enjoyed very much. The different restaurants at Virginia Beach were always fascinating to me. Seeing a giant fire red crab wearing a captain’s hat and sunglasses always meant an all you can eat seafood buffet. While driving downtown, my brother and I would always try to see who could spot the most crabs before we reached our destination. Sometimes we would get to eat at the places with the giant crabs, but they were never as promising as the signs professed. Usually all you can eat meant “all you can try to grab at the buffet tables before some 400 pound lady in a moo-moo pushes you out of the way so she can get first dibs on the crab legs.” Buffets weren’t (and still aren’t) really my style.
After restaurant dining, we would always window shop at places with names like “Waves,” “Pacific,” and “Sunsations.” All of these cheesy, brightly painted buildings held the same cheap trinkets and shot glasses saying “I Traveled to Virginia Beach and All I Got Were Crabs.” Even so, the shops were still a fun place for a seven year old looking to get into some mischief. I would try on silly hats, pet the hermit crabs and lizards, and beg my grandparents to buy me a tie-dyed t-shirt eight sizes too big for my small frame. All in all, my childhood trips to Virginia Beach were a blast.
Now, being older and more mature, I still go to the beach every year, but with my fiancé, not my grandparents. Virginia Beach has changed a lot since I visited as a child, but it’s still a little slice of Heaven in my book. Upon arriving at the beach, the first thing I like to do is step onto the sand and let my body get into a state of relaxation. Building sandcastles is a thing of the past, but I do enjoy digging my toes into the hot sand and burying my feet so they don’t get sunburned. Photography became a passion of mine over the years, so I always take a lot of pictures of the ocean and the waves. The ocean has a serene feel and it knows how to make me feel like I’m the smallest person on the Earth. The ocean is so vast; the color of sparkling jade in the sunlight. I enjoyed standing at the water’s edge and just taking a few deep breaths of salty ocean air to put my mind in a state of tranquility. After this, I feel as though I am free to enjoy my stay, which is usually a mere three days as opposed to an entire week in happiness. Normally, I end up falling asleep on my towel for a few hours after reading a book or watching some kids build a moat for their castles.
Upon awakening from my slumber, I realize that my fiancé and I are two of just the few people that are still left on the beach. The sun is setting and is casting an orange hazy glow on the surroundings. I pack up our things and we head back to the hotel to shower and scrub the sand from our hair, nails, and from in between our toes. Showering was always optional as a child because I didn’t care what I looked like, I was there to play in the ocean and eat shrimp and that’s it. After showering and putting on clothes that are presentable enough for a night on the town, we head back out to the boardwalk for some fun.
The boardwalk of Virginia Beach is a very entertaining place, especially during the summer months. There are tons of oceanfront restaurants and bars, a huge pavilion where summer concerts are held for free, and many carnival games and rides. Catch 31 is a very hip oceanfront restaurant/outdoor bar that I love, so we go there frequently when we visit the beach. The restaurant itself is beautiful, with crisp white tablecloths covered with cobalt blue glassware to accessorize. Inside, the architecture seems like it’s from the future with extremely lofty ceilings with stark white beams that accentuate the height. The smell is salty and lemon-y, immediately making me salivate, but even more so when I see the jumbo shrimp cocktail on a table next to the entrance. Although the inside is breath-taking, I enjoy eating outside because of the fresh air and exciting environment. A huge fire pit sits in the middle of a gigantic bar surrounded by palm trees and exotic flowers making the space feel comfortable yet exhilarating. Eating there feels like you are in the Caribbean, not off the coast of Virginia. The food is exquisite to the sight as well as taste. Fried calamari is extremely hard to cook correctly, but they seem to have it down pat. It’s golden outside is buttery and the texture has just the right amount of crunch. Inside, the calamari is cooked to perfection because it’s not chewy and it literally melts in my mouth. This restaurant is by far the best seafood restaurant I’ve ever eaten at and I don’t think I will find another that can tingle my taste buds the same as Catch 31.
After eating, I like to walk down the pier and listen to the ocean at night. I believe this is the perfect time to visit the endless horizon because it’s not as crowded; the silence lets me really take in the ocean and how it sounds. The waves are rolling upon the shoreline, and I can make out the white foam when they crash. It sounds exactly like a conch shell when held up to my ear, only better. My ears can hear the people walking around me, but my mind blocks out everything but the comforting sound of the waves. The white foam sprays the sand and creates a frosting on the beach, as if a pastry chef were icing the perfect cake just for me. My fiancé puts his arm around my shoulder, and I feel that if I could capture any moment in time and bottle it up forever, it would be this one.
After listening to the ocean, I always go down to the boardwalk to get ice cream from the Dairy Queen right beside the pavilion. The line is always long, but when it’s 75 degrees outside at 11pm, it’s worth the wait for an Oreo Blizzard. Usually the area will be filled with live music from the pavilion, normally reggae. I retrieve my Blizzard and sit on the grass to watch the man with dreadlocks and unfashionable orange Hawaiian shirt play the steel drums and sing a version of Bob Marley’s “One Love.” Everyone is swaying back and forth to the music and the palm trees seem to follow the beat as well as if we are all one organism instead of many separate ones. The song ends and everyone claps and cheers for more, but the band starts to pack up because it’s late and they want to end the night on a good note.
Realizing that most of the crowd has dispersed, I get up and shake the sand off of my shorts and look at my fiancé. We decide that it’s about time to head back to the hotel because we know that early tomorrow, as the sun is rising and showering us with the warm colors of morning, we will be running on the beach to get in a workout before the hotel serves breakfast. We decide to take our ritual walk on the beach, barefoot while carrying our sandals before we retire to the hotel for the night.
The sand is much cooler at night and feels great on my feet that are worn out from all of the walking done earlier in the evening. As I slip off my sandals and sink my feet into the cool sand, a wave comes up and travels over my feet then retreats, leaving a perfectly formed seashell near my right ankle. I bend over and pick it up, knowing that when I get back to Winchester, I will be making some sort of hemp necklace out of the jewel that the beach provided me. We continue our walk until we reach our hotel. Slipping my sandals back on is bittersweet because my body is tired and I can’t wait to sink into a bed of clouds, but I hate to leave the paradise that I have created for myself. I longingly gaze back at the ocean one last time before stepping onto the sidewalk to make my way into the hotel. I silently say to myself, “Life is good when the sand is between my toes,” before falling asleep that night.
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