In 1974, I said goodbye to the beach and the Chesapeake Bay. The move to Texas put me 1,200 miles away from it. However, during my childhood, the beach was a wonderful place to wade along the shore, cast a fishing line, beach comb, swim, or sunbathe.
It’s surprising what drifts ashore on a beach, especially after a storm. I spent many days picking up rocks, sea glass, shells and driftwood. Fishing from the beach was as simple as peeling a softshell clam and putting it on a hook. Mullet, Sea Bass, Croaker—you name it. We reeled in all kinds of fish and eels from the Chesapeake.
In my early teens, the beach was a refuge. The ebb and flow of the waves often cleared my mind from a grueling day at middle school.
Twenty-three years later, in 1997, I returned to my familiar beach. Surprisingly, huge rocks and boulders filled the shoreline—Maryland’s attempt to deter soil erosion. The beach I knew had changed, yet it still held many memories.
Today, there are only a few designated places to access the beach. Whenever I visit the Eastern Shore, I drive into one of these areas, park the car, take off my shoes and meander to the beachfront. Feeling the sand underneath my feet and the cool bay waters lapping at my ankles take me back to a carefree time. I inhale the familiar salty scent and savor the moment—surrounded by the Chesapeake.
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