In the last few weeks Northern Virginia has really blossomed. The trees, which were barren and brown when I first arrived in March, are now thick and green. The sun is shining and the weather is fabulous. I thought this would make my outlook on life in inland Virginia a little more positive, but I still can’t help but feel… stuck. I always get this feeling when I’m too far from the ocean. It’s an underlying anxiety that remains, even through smiles and laughter.  In all the places I’ve chosen to live and travel, the ocean has been my constant- my home. It’s the place I can run when I’m feeling overwhelmed, or feeling anything at all, really. The ocean has always been part of my routine. Like going to the gym or taking a shower. It was part of my life on an almost daily basis. Even on my busiest of days when I couldn’t make time for the beach, at least I knew it was there. Now I don’t know what to do with that part of my day that has a huge void in it.  I watch my daughter run around at the playground and look down at my new son. I worry that they won’t know the beach like I do. I know we’ll only be here a year or two (hopefully), but these are critical years. I worry that I’ll have kids that scream when they are placed in the salty, turbulent water. I doubt Eva will ever be that way, she’s already too fond of the beach. But then I feel so guilty for taking her so far away from it. The occasional weekend trip (which hasn’t even happened yet) is simply not enough. I drive around this beautiful area in awe of the massive trees swaying in the wind. But it doesn’t take long for my mind to wander to a place I’d rather be. I’d rather be driving somewhere with a towel on my seat, wet bikini on, salty skin, windows down, sun shining in, and boards in the back… So although Virginia is blooming in all the glory of Spring, I’m not. I miss the beach. I need it.