A trip to the Florida Gulf Coast reinvigorates the senses | Danny Heitman

In their trips to the beach each summer, my children first learned about the largeness of the world, a place big enough to hold their dreams. Wide blue waves stretched to the horizon, inviting them to look toward distant places.

My daughter and son live far away these days, each one near a different shore at opposite ends of the country. Parenthood no longer asks me to be a beach dad, and there have been some summers when my swim shoes and ice chest stay on the shelf.

But this year, I felt a need to enlarge my sense of the world, too. My daily routines, normally a comfort, were making me wonder what might lie beyond my quietly ordered life. When my sister-in-law invited us to the Gulf Coast for a few days, I quickly agreed.

I always reward myself after the long drive to Florida by dipping my bare feet in the waves before I unpack. As dusk softens the day, I inch closer to the tide, the sea’s salty fingers tickling my toes while I laugh and make friends with the ocean again.

On that first evening, I kept my ankles in the surf until the lights in all the beach condos slowly winked on, a constellation of families getting ready for dinner. Nearby, a young man and his sweetheart were using the last moments of daylight to get their engagement picture taken on the beach. These seaside photo sessions have become a romantic tradition along the Gulf Coast for many couples, but I never get tired of seeing them. There’s something hopeful about watching two lovers pledging themselves to each other at the ocean’s edge, radiant with joy as they stand at the bright lip of eternity.

The next morning, I slathered myself with sunscreen and went deeper into the water, up to my shoulders, as I staggered through the waves like a drunkard winding his way home. I was so still for an hour that a few gulls stopped by and kept me company, maybe convinced that I was a log. They seemed suspended as they hovered over my head, like model airplanes hung by thread.

With age, I’ve come to understand that I don’t have to be in the ocean to savor it. Sometimes, we enjoyed the water best from our balcony, sipping coffee while the sea moved in and out, its steady heartbeat slowing our own.

What I liked most, I think, was watching the open sky through the big window near my reading chair. In the shifting view, I could see the day work through its many moods. Clouds often shimmered white, transfigured by high sun, but as afternoon rains came, the scene bruised blue and gray, like a canvas by Winslow Homer.

To be at the beach again was a gift. In keeping its magic close to heart, our children might know more than we do.

Email Danny Heitman at [email protected].