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I’m walking along a beach. It is not just any beach; it is my beach. Of course not really, but I call it “my beach.” It is a stretch of beach off the gulf coast near Biloxi, Louisiana. Every time I am here, there is nothing else but the beach and me. I’m walking barefoot in the sand, reveling in the serenity of the scene before me. The sand feels soft, mushy and slightly abrasive. With each step I leave a footprint in the wet, grainy earth. It doesn’t last for a long time because the gentle waves soon overflow the shore and take it into the wide ocean. The vast expanse of the ocean yawns before me in all its mystery, with rolling colors of sable blue and white tipped waves. The waves are drawn to the shore by the warm, gentle breeze. The air is saturated with mist from the sea. The moisture clings to my skin and hair. The wind blows my damp hair into my face, refreshing me