Walking the shoreline - mapping my beach day

Hello friends, warm greetings to you all!

Yesterday, I went to the beach, and honestly, it was exactly what I needed. The day started simple — just me deciding to get out of the house and breathe in some fresh air — but it turned into something much deeper. I don’t always get to go to the beach, so every time I do, it feels like a special trip.The moment I got there, I paused for a while just to take it all in. The sea breeze hit my face, the smell of salt filled the air, and the sound of the waves was so steady that it almost felt like music. I could see the endless horizon in front of me, and in that moment, I remembered how coastlines always look on maps — just neat curves and lines. But standing there made me realize how alive that “line” really is. The waves kept rushing forward, pulling back, changing the shape of the sand right in front of my eyes.I started walking along the wet sand, leaving my footprints behind. It felt like I was tracing my own little path, almost like making a personal map of the day. Each step was a point, and the shoreline was my guide. The sand was cool under my feet, and sometimes a wave would run forward and almost catch me, washing away the last step I took. I laughed a bit — it was like the ocean was erasing my map as fast as I was making it.From where I stood, the coastline curved a little to the left, and far away, I could see rocks where the waves were crashing harder. I stopped and imagined looking at this place from above — like a bird or like the satellite view on a digital map. I pictured how the curve of the shore would look on paper, how cartographers must have once drawn it by hand, step by step, just like I was walking it now.As I kept walking, I noticed small things — fishermen pulling in their nets, children playing near the shallow water, shells and seaweed left behind by the tide. Every detail felt like a symbol you would see on a map: boats like tiny arrows, shells like markers, footprints like little dotted paths. It made me think that maps aren’t just for navigation; they’re for stories. If I drew a map of my walk yesterday, I’d add a note where I stopped to watch the sunset, a little star where I found the biggest seashell, and a small wave icon where the water splashed me.I sat down on the sand after a while, just to watch. The waves kept coming, one after another, and I thought about how coastlines change over time. If I had an old map of this beach from a hundred years ago, maybe it would look different — wider, narrower, maybe with more rocks or fewer. It made me wonder what this beach will look like fifty years from now, or even ten. The sea is always redrawing its own borders.

At one point, I picked up a shell and looked closely at it. It had ridges running across it like tiny mountain ranges. It reminded me that even the smallest things hold geography inside them — little maps carved by nature. I collected a few more, each one different, each one telling its own story.

The best part of the day came just before I left. The sun was setting, and the sky turned orange, then pink, then a deep blue. I turned around and looked back at the path I had walked. Some of my footprints were still there, some had already disappeared. It felt like a metaphor for life — some of the maps we draw in this world stay, others fade away, but they all matter while we are making them.

Before heading home, I stood still one last time and imagined tracing a line from this exact spot on a world map. If someone followed that line across the ocean, where would they end up? Which countries would be connected by the same waters that touched my feet? That thought made me feel small but also connected — part of a much bigger picture, part of the map of the world.That was my little adventure yesterday, and it reminded me that maps aren’t just about places, they are about moments too. I think next time I go to the beach, I might actually sketch the shoreline and mark the little things I notice. It would be like making my own mini atlas of memories.