My entire life until now has been spent near the water. The Great Lakes, the Chesapeake Bay, the Adriatic Sea, the Atlantic Ocean. There is no better sound in the world than that of crashing waves. As a matter of fact, I am staring at this photograph I took of a beach on Jekyll Island and listening to a nature CD that features such tracks as “Pleasant Beach” and “Big Surf”. I didn’t think it would ever come to this.
Aside from the slight bout of heat sickness I suffered two weekends ago, I was unlucky enough to catch some virus (or was it food poisoning?) that took me out last weekend, too. I came out of that near-death experience having learned two things: (1) no matter how old I am, I will always want my mother when I’m sick, and (2) sometimes there is just never enough water.
Water, and the knowledge that I desperately need more of it, has been the story of my life these past two weeks. Doctors told me years ago that I was chronically dehydrated. A therapist told me years ago that I need to learn how to relax. The solution from both of them? MORE WATER.