7-Day Fun Streak - An Evening at Hampton Beach

When my daughter asked if I wanted to drive two and a half hours to Hampton Beach...on a Wednesday...after work, I didn't hesitate.

"Yes."

A few months ago, I would have invented at least twelve reasons not to go.

I'm trying not to be that person anymore. I'm trying to choose joy, and the beach has always been one of my favorite versions of it.

We tossed beach chairs, mats, and novels into the car. When her best friend climbed in, we hit the road.

The drive was its own joyful experience. We chatted nonstop and somehow spent a solid hour casting a live-action Disney Hercules movie. When we finally reached Hampton Beach, we grabbed dinner at Bernie's, where I shamelessly flirted with our cute, tattooed server. (He checked me out first. I merely responded appropriately.)

The tide was going out and all the day bleachers were gone, so we had our own section of beach to enjoy. We set up the chairs, set up the mats, and I stripped out of my dress and headed for the waves.

The water was Hampton Beach cold, a frigid cold that makes your wrists ache before they go numb. Perfect. I wanted every nerve ending to wake up. Twenty minutes later, I climbed out feeling refreshed, reset, and ridiculously happy.

Then I went about shell hunting. I recovered a large clam shell and a smaller, shimmering muscle shell, and a rock with a nice white quartz vein running through it. I love collecting little adventure treasures, and these went right into my treasure jar, along with a couple smaller shells and rocks.

I dried off while reading my new Lisa Gardner book, You’ll Be Sorry. When the sun went down, I just relaxed, enjoying the ocean waves and the tall ship that was anchored directly in front of us. Sunset brought another session of joy, the sky turning pink, then orange, then purple, until the colors gave way to darkness and the stars said hello.

Fireworks started at 9:30 and I had some time to kill before then, so I chased the tide out and waded ankle deep in the frigid water. Then I came back to our spot but I had to much energy to sit. Nearby, a mom of six had dug an enormous hole in the sand and left it behind. Rather than wait for high tide to fill the hole, I spent fifteen solid minutes happily kicking sand back into it.

Bonus: it turned into excellent physical therapy for my rebuilding ankles.

The fireworks started right on time. I couldn't remember the last time I'd simply sat on the beach and watched a fireworks show without thinking about what came next. When we got back in the car, my feet were soft and smooth from the natural pedicure, and I drifted off to la la land for the drive home. My alarm went off at 5:30 the next morning, and I had a full-blown beach hangover. I was tired, salty, and probably still had sand in places sand shouldn't be.

Worth it. Every single second. Because joy isn't always convenient. Sometimes it's a Wednesday night, a freezing ocean, a handful of shells, fireworks over the Atlantic, and a long drive home knowing you said yes.

How are you integrating joy into your life these days?