The path

Beach scenes.

One of my favorite things.

The carved path of many gone before me makes me think about their walk.

Our steps appear to leave a similar imprint in the sand, yet they all tell a different story.

Children may have run excitedly ahead, leaving exasperated parents behind lugging chairs and coolers.

Couples could have strolled hand in hand, happily spending their precious day off together.

Perhaps an old man gazed wistfully at his beachfront home, once teeming with noise, now sitting oddly quiet despite its beauty, as the waves lapped at his feet.

Maybe someone stood before the ocean, marveling at its vastness and how small they are in the presence of such a wonder—even considering how it all began and what power, if any, could be behind it, in need of reassurance.

Or, young people gathered with not a care in the world—frisbees, laughter, and lightheartedness surrounding them.

These marks remind us that many have walked the path. Each with their own intentions and feelings in their hearts.

Happy, sad, and everything in between.

It is with a humble reverence we should yield, always in kindness, to passersby of all kinds.

As we never know what they truly carry, until we walk in their sandals.

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