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I have always wanted to live at the beach.  I feel more comfortable and “at home” there than any other place.  Walking along the beach, feeling the wet sand, cold against my soles as I pad along is like salve for my inner soul.  I can sit for hours, watching the sea gulls and pipers scavenge the beach for bits of food, listen to them call to one another in companionship or in warning and watch as they soar the skies bringing me a closeness with my creator like none other.  In the evening, I relish in sitting on the sand, listening, to the surf crash against the shoreline, if I am fortunate enough to have a full moon above, I can make out the foaming white crests of those waves as they follow, one behind the other until spent or pulled back into the deep in reconstruction for yet another run against the sandy beach.  When unable to be at the beach, I surround myself with pictures and figurines of beach settings, lighthouses, sea creatures and nautical fare. To achieve the peace needed to create or just rejuvenate my body and mind, my perfect room would be in a beach-side house, with walls of windows overlooking a picturesque Oceanside community, at the end of a long strand.  Maybe, someday, I will find my home, with the perfect room, with a view.