The sun had gone down and the sugary-white beach now teemed with young children searching for crabs. Their twinkling flashlights made the sand look like the vast Milky Way above their heads. In front of them, the Gulf of Mexico had turned from a beautiful turquoise to an ominous inky black. And off to their east, a severe thunderstorm battered areas just west of Panama City Beach. Strobe lightning danced between thunderheads, providing a spectacular fireworks display. Something so dangerous was oddly beautiful. It made a nearby man realize how powerful a little distance really was.
Jackson Whittington walked east through the surf. He had been through a personal storm. The hurricane known as the Great Recession had destroyed everything he had once had known. Like the pummeling Panama City Beach was now experiencing, he had been blown out of his comfort zone. At the time it had left him broken and bitter. Now, months later, he saw it for what it was: A good thing.
A warm wave washed over his feet. He stopped and turned toward the black water. The storms had kicked up the surf, turning the normally tranquil Gulf into a mini tempest. He took a breath and looked east toward the storm. Lightning illuminated the top of the massive cumulonimbus clouds. He continued to walk South, away from the land.
Blame. He had blamed everyone but himself for losing his job.
Bitterness. Like cancer, it had eaten at his soul.
Anger. It had crippled him, shutting down his creativity.
Pity. It had been the comforting blanket that he had wrapped around his brain and left him emotionally crippled.
A warm wave crashed over his legs, bathing his legs with a warm salty wash.
He looked at the giant condominiums looming from the beach. They were filled with thousands of tourists. Jackson realized none of them cared that he had been wronged. No one did.
Blame, bitterness, anger, pity — they were useless to him now.
He took a breath and stretched his arms out like a cross. Slowly he leaned back until he began to fall, slowly at first and then faster. He relinquished control to a higher power. He totally let go.
Splash.
His body felt a slight jolt as he fell into the water. Black currents swirled around his head. Warm water washed his anger away. Sand bumped his bottom as he floated in the shallow surf. He held his breath as long as he could. And then the ocean calmed.
He felt the strength to stand on his own. He stood, soaked, looking back at the twinkling lights on the beach. The glow from the giant towers reflected in front of him and guided him out of the sea.
Like the storm in the distance, his personal storm began to fade. He realized it had been caused not by what had happened but by how poorly he had reacted to it. As he walked out of the surf, young children ran past, laughing and looking for crabs. He laughed himself as towel of personal responsibility soothed and dried his soul. It was time to stop blaming and start living again.
