Growing up, my life was shaped by beach towns. We moved to Fort Pierce when I was about three, and after that it was Sarasota, Fort Walton Beach, Jacksonville—places where the ocean is practically a neighbor. Beach life has a rhythm all its own. There’s the shimmering horizon where sun and water meet, the soft hiss of waves breathing in and out, and that feeling of letting the tide carry your worries away. Whether you’re stretched out on warm sand or walking the shoreline at sunrise, the beach wraps you in a kind of peaceful, effortless calm.

But the mountains have always been part of my story, too. My grandfather had a cabin tucked away in Ruidoso, New Mexico, and my dad and stepmom still have their place in Highlands, North Carolina. The air changes in the mountains—crisper, cleaner, almost sharpening your senses. The quiet isn’t empty; it’s restorative. There’s something about standing on a ridge, taking in a sweeping view, that reminds you how small your worries really are.

So which is better—beach or mountains? Honestly, I don’t think you can lose either way. Both offer escape, rest, and a chance to step outside the grind of daily life. The beach invites you to slow down and breathe. The mountains invite you to look up and feel inspired.

Some days I want the warmth of the sand and the steady rhythm of the waves. Other days, I want the brisk air and the quiet that only pine-covered slopes can provide. Maybe the real gift is knowing we can choose—depending on the season, the mood, or the kind of peace we’re chasing that day.

Copyright © 2025 Doug DeBolt.