I'm on vacation in Atlantic City, North Carolina. My family is renting two beach houses, next door to each other, right on the beach. With all the spouses and extended family, we have about 22 people. So far, it has been the best vacation I can ever remember having.
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Last night, a big storm was rolling in. I sat in a rocking chair on the back porch, facing the ocean, letting the wind whip past me as I stared out into the dark landscape beyond the deck. The sea oats were flailing, and the entire scene was lit periodically by lightning from the distance. The storm clouds had not yet reached the shore, but the sky was rather unusually clear, letting the stars shine through.
I sat with my grandfather. He was discussing with me his life, and his advice for moving forward in the young adult stage. He is one of the wisest and quick-witted men that I have ever known. I sat listening to him speak while rocking in the swift, salty wind, anticipating the huge storm that was on its way.
I felt something that I have felt many times before, but never in the way I did last night.
Rising to my feet, I was asked where I was going. Not wanting to entirely betray the overwhelming calling I was feeling, I whimsically replied something about needing to have a meeting at the shore with Poseidon.
The path from the porch to the surf is only about seventy yards. I walked quickly and nervously into the wind and toward the roaring ocean.
Arriving at the edge, right where the waves reach their limit, I stopped, and looked up. I looked left. I looked right.
It is almost impossible to describe how it feels to stand on the edge of the world.
