The Ocean Unboxed

I was seven the first time I saw the ocean at North Carolina’s Outer Banks. When I climbed the sand dune and saw the water crashing and receding, I mistook it for a creature with intelligence and will.

I scavenged each wave’s deposit of shells and seaweed. I chased tiny crabs that brandished their claws. I plopped down, bobbing in the waves. When we left, I filled a pail with sand and a bottle with ocean, determined to keep the sea with me.

The next morning, in a plastic shoebox, I mounded the sand into a beach, poured in the water, and waited to see the tiny waves roar to life. But to my disappointment, instead of lapping against the shore, the water flattened out, still and lifeless.

Since childhood, I’ve learned that the ocean rolls because of the earth’s revolution, the wind’s current, the moon’s gravitational pull, and energy passing through the water. Last summer when I returned to that beach, I found myself again wondering at the ocean itself and the one who, in the beginning, gathered the waters into one place and set a boundary for them, sent the waves rolling, and even stilled them.