Once upon a time, when I was a small child, my favorite daily activity was to go to the beach. I didn't live near the ocean, nor did we drive there frequently. I went to my beach. My beach was a small strip of pebble covered land, at the edge of the creek that ran though our old front yard. I loved to play there. I would collect small rocks and try (unsuccessfully) to skip them in the creek. I would listen to sounds of the birds and animals that lived in the adjoining woods. I would sit in the cool shade and daydream on a hot summer day. It was a beach because my mama said it could be. It was magical because she made it so.
Now that I am grown, I am ecstatic to live by a creek. I can clearly hear it through my opened window at night. Just over it, and to the left, live my grandparents. To the right, across the little white bridge, live Mama and Dad. Though this isn't the same beach from my childhood, it is the same magic. I love that my daycare children can play and learn here. I hope that my daughter and other future children will someday love this beach as much as I loved mine. I hope that they feel the same wonder, the same magic, the same enchantment that I felt.