There are days when I need the sea, and today was one of them. I drove down to the coast early, leaving the heat of the city behind.
The Cantabrian Sea is not like other seas. It is grey and deep, and its voice asks for nothing: it simply sounds, over and over, putting in order whatever I carry tangled inside.
I sat on a stone and let the noise of the waves set everything back in its place. What was big became small; what was tangled, a little clearer.
I did nothing special. I watched the horizon, felt the cold breeze on my face and breathed deeply, slowly, like someone remembering her own rhythm.
The sea does not fix things, but it arranges them. It returns them to their true size.
I came home in the afternoon with salt on my skin and a lighter head. Something in me calmed without my being able to explain it.
Sometimes all we need is a place where things sound louder than our thoughts.