The Perfect Beach?

I used to say that when I retired I was going to move to a beach and get up every morning and gather seashells from the receding tide to sell in my tourist shop along with kitchy t-shirts and whimsical clay sea turtles. I’d call my shop, “My Shell’s,” which is a play on my childhood nickname from my dad. When my son got sick, I thought maybe an ice cream truck might be a better idea. Together we could travel from beach to beach serving soft serve to haggard moms with sandy toddlers. On rainy days, I’d close shop and watch the waves crash in. Every beach town I am in, I imagine what it would be like to live in a place where I could hear the roar of the ocean every morning. My travels haven’t been about the perfect beach to retire in, but they aren’t NOT about that either.

Speaking of retirement, that’s happening. I put in my paperwork, but I will work until Christmas. I will start 2026 as a free agent. The choice to leave was agonizing, and I so appreciate the patience of my friends and family who have listened to me waffle and wail over the decision. I discovered that I am really not great at endings. I have been going to school in the fall literally my entire life. When August rolls in, it’s time for new shoes and Sharpies and maybe a haircut. But for the past four or five years, maybe even longer, August has also been a source of great anxiety and panic. I have tried different things; I’ve switched subjects, grade levels, schools, even districts. I have tried breathing exercises and yoga and positive self-talk. I coach myself up with thoughts like…”You can do this! It’s gonna be great! One more year. You got this.” But in reality, by March, I am ready for a padded cell, and it takes all of June to get my soul healthy again. I finally decided that it was time to listen to my heart and start a new chapter for myself.

Most of my friends are already back in their classrooms, pouring over class lists and making bulletin boards and getting lessons ready, but I’m spending my last days of summer on the Oregon coast. I want to finish strong, and bring my best, so I decided to give my soul a long drink of the ocean, like an energy drink for the last leg of the race.

My first day on the beach, I looked down and saw a perfect sand dollar. It felt like a gift. I held it tightly as I walked along the water line. I could go all writerly and make a metaphor about the shell and life, but I”ll just say that finding the sand dollar was transformative. It helped me realize that shedding my old life is making way for something new. It’s all up to me. I get to decide. And I am so ready for the challenge.

Meanwhile, the Oregon coastline is unlike anything I have ever seen. It might just be the perfect beach.