Inlet parked

"On a rainy afternoon, a visitor feeds masses of seagulls at an empty inlet parking lot in Ocean City, Md., Friday, April 1, 2011."

Ocean City breeds an air of familiarly for me and always will.

I was fortunate enough to be raised by the water from the time I could breathe and blink. Every time I visit, there is something about the entire city that makes me nostalgic.

The sticky feel of sea air as you hit Delaware, the sand between your toes, the comfort seafood, the lingering scent of caramel popcorn, and the smile it all brings to my face.

I can walk by dozens on dozens of businesses, recalling times of my youth and wishing I was still living a carefree lifestyle. No stress. No struggle. But life moves forward. We grow. We learn. We move. Our perspectives change.

No longer are the the small three-foot waves appearing as massive tidal waves. No longer are the slices of pizza bottomless and free. No longer do weekends feel like entire weeks. No longer must we wake and provide.

But even though these perspectives shift and take new form in our lives, we can still let go and discover new treasures beneath the sand.

As I spent a pair of days this weekend roaming the boardwalk, and driving down coastal highway, I tried to see things in a new way, despite being drawn toward my past memories.

It was a great weekend where I found myself forgetting about the tough times I've endured these past couple months and the time there really lifted my spirits about returning to work and the future.