Island Boy

If I could live my ideal life, I wouldn’t live in the United States where life is more expensive. I would gather enough money so that I wouldn’t have to worry about my income. Then, I would ex-patriot out of the U.S. I am not Anti-American: I am in love with “the land of the Free and home of the Brave”. But my heart has another fondness that has been instilled in me since I was young. It is my unadulterated love of a sandy beach and the salty smell of the ocean breeze. Hearing a wave crash against the shore and watching the current tumble back into the restless sea sends me to a place of inner peace. It gives me a belonging that I can’t find any where else in the world. I call my condition the “Soul of a Sailor”, thanks to country artist Kenny Chesney, and I blame its existence on my childhood days spent on the shores of Spanish beaches. When ever I’m troubled, I remember all the good times that I have spent in the sand, watching the sun fall down below the horizon and feeling the ocean spray against my face. My beach home would be my own little piece of paradise where I could finally say that my heart is free. Life is always easy and stress free on some beach, somewhere, with no cares but that of a sun burn.