in need of beach therapy

It’s 42° out and I am taking the bus to Far Rockaway for some “beach therapy” this morning. I’ve spent the last few weeks at home lying on the couch recovering from surgery. The most excitement I’ve had is walking six blocks to the grocery store in less than an hour and having to rest after. I’ve been feeling frustrated by the slow recovery and overwhelmed with future decisions. I need sand and surf to help clear my thoughts!


I take the Q53 bus from my neighborhood in Queens to Far Rockaway which is a much shorter commute than taking the A train through Manhattan. The bus ran local but a 45 minute ride to the beach at the cost of a metro card swipe is worth every minute.


I started out at Beach 90th entrance and made my way slowly down the beach. The sun was shining but the wind was chilly so I was prepared with my wind proof gear – not planning to squish my toes in the sand today!



One of my favorite things to do is what I call “pokin around” in the sand, finding objects to pick up or collect, such as unique seashells. I brought a few plastic bags with me just in case I found trash to pick up. I collect the plastic bags from all food deliveries at the studio and bring them home to recycle or use for my clean-ups.


As I made my way down the beach I found a substantial amount of litter to pick up. Most of the litter seems to be plastic bottle tops or beer cans left over from beach goers. (pictured below) I also found a lipstick, rubber glove, rope, mini liquor bottles, tampons and plastic bags. I also saw ALOT of dog shit on the beach which made me really angry. I can’t believe that people don’t pick this up – if they think they are responsible enough to own a pet they need to be responsible for cleaning up after that pet. Nobody wants to walk on the beach with bare feet at any time and step in DOG SHIT! It is so disgusting! (poop not pictured below)





I filled 4 small plastic bags with trash. Content with my clean-up I took some time to sit on the sand and enjoy the peaceful sound of the waves crashing into shore and watching the surfers hit the waves.



I didn’t find a box of courage or happiness on the beach buried in the sand, nor did I find that suitcase of hundred dollar bills I keep asking for, but I did have a good short cry and a moment to myself to think long and hard about my choices that I need to make.



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