A Letter to My Tide

Dear Tide,

Ever been to a beach? I will assume you have. But which one, and with whom? I have been to many beaches, and somehow I started noticing a pattern, a kind of philosophy. I love beaches, but only the quiet ones, the ones without crowds. I do not even like going into the water, I just prefer sitting on the shore, alone, in silence. It gives me a moment to collect myself. Even when my mind is at rest, I would still choose to sit by the shore. There are no unnecessary noises, only the sound of waves.

And for me, peace is not always silence. Sometimes, when I sit there and close my eyes, I listen. Every wave sounds different, every wave has its own shape and intensity. Some are soft, some are strong, but none are the same. And that difference keeps me awake, keeps me aware, keeps me existing. It feels like a way to escape reality while still being in it.

Maybe that is where the story begins. There was always the sea, endless and moving, and then there was the shore, still and quiet. For a long time, the shore only knew stillness, no movement, no change, just dry sand and a silent kind of emptiness. It had accepted that this was all it would ever be, until one day, the tide reached it. Not all at once, but slowly, wave by wave. Each touch changed something. The sand softened, the silence shifted, something new entered.

With every wave, the sea brought more than just water. It brought presence, it brought life, it carried something the shore did not know it needed. And slowly, the shore began to wait. It started waiting for the tide, for that feeling to return, because every time the sea touched it, it left behind something different, a pattern, a memory, a mark. But the sea was never constant. It would come close, and then it would leave. There were moments when the shore was left completely dry again, and in those moments, it questioned everything.

But no matter how far the sea went, it always returned. And that is when the shore understood something. It was never about holding the sea forever. The sea had its own rhythm, it could not stay, and the shore could not follow. What mattered was what the sea left behind, the feeling, the change, the way it transformed the shore into something that could feel.

For a moment, the shore feared losing it, feared that one day the tide might stop coming back. But then it realized something deeper. Even in its absence, the sea had already changed it. The softness remained, the patterns remained, the memory of that touch remained. And slowly, the shore began to reflect that change, it was no longer just a silent place, it had become something more.

Maybe that is why I sit there. Not because it is quiet, but because it is not. Because every wave carries something different, because even in repetition there is change, because even in stillness there is movement. And maybe, just like the shore, I am learning to feel that too.

Thank you for reaching me, even if you never stayed.

With love, The Shore