The Ramp

Sometimes life in a small town is so mundane, so hard, so rural. The same faces, rumors, etc. It can really drive you crazy. Unless you find something magical, something that you can fall back on when down in the dumps, all you think about is getting out.
Last night I stayed late at my shop, cleaning up after Ladies Night. I wasn't planning on staying, I was just going to throw the bulk of it in the sink and come back the next day, but I enjoyed puttering around, so I kept with it.
After all was neat and tidy I flicked off the lights and closed the door. I have a wheel chair ramp that goes down the side of my shop, towards my parking spot in back and I always walk that way. So on my way down the ramp, I hear it. It honestly stopped me dead in my tracks. The roar of the ocean. I was totally wooed by the thunder of the waves, crashing on the beach. I can hear it every night, but sometimes it just stops me and makes me thankful for where I live. It's that magic that keeps me hear.
I love walking up and down that ramp beside my store. In the morning, the sound of the birds is almost deafening. I've never lived anywhere that has as many birds as Florence. It's so cheerful and sweet sounding. The perfect way to start the day - and those crashing waves at night - I just love it so much.