I paused before replying, flashing back in my mind 50 years to my first visit to Wells Street Beach in Miller. When I was a kid, this beach was so popular that it became the go-to spot for many of my friends and classmates. I heard a lot of colorful stories about all the cool and outrageous things that took place there.
Kegger parties. Late nights. Beachfront bonfires.
Lost virginity. I had no idea what was true and what was gossip. That beach has as many secrets as it does footprints.
But the young man who greeted visitors at its entrance last week didn’t care about any of those sand-kissed stories. So I simply replied, “Yeah, I’ve been here before,” and found a parking spot. “The more sand has escaped from the hourglass of our life, the clearer we should see through it.
” — Niccolo Machiavelli This has been true for my life as well when it comes to seeing through my proverbial hourglass, which has lost most of its sand. As a teenager who was awkward, overweight and self-conscious, my perspective was buried in the quicksand of adolescence. I struggled to find my footing.
I feared being swallowed up whole. Because of my self-image, I never felt comfortable at any beach. But especially this one — Wells Street Beach — which attracted the cool, attractive, affluent kids.
Or so I thought. Even on a sea of endless sand, the grass seems greener when you’re young and filled with fear of missing out, or FOMO. “ Time is like a handful of sand — the tighter you g.