Happy Memorial Day, friends! I know my list is a bit late, but Brian had a few days off in a row and when that happens we like to play hard. I’ve been away from the computer for about four days (!!!) and it felt weird, but good. I have some catching up to do…
I’m changing it up a bit this week. Instead of a list, I have a day.
We are at the beach, our quintessential family day destination. The kids are playing with sand, making “beach” soup in a bucket containing sea weed, sea water, shells, sand and wood. The baby has already eaten a mouthful of sand, so that’s over with. Brian and I are having a conversation that has lasted five minutes already, a record these days for sure.
I breath deep and smell the sea: that sweet combination of salt and weed and life below the surface. It’s another world under those crashing waters and I’m reminded of The Little Mermaid and her song, “Part of Your World,” and then the waves and the spray come leaping up upon on the rocks.
I watch Hudson play in the water, long limbs tanned golden flashing in the sun. When did my baby grow into this lithe boy? Abby runs up in her floppy hat and yells at the seagulls; they are attacking our bags. I sweep her up on my back and we run, arms waving, yelling at the top of our lungs, “Go away, you birds! Go away!”
We are laughing so hard I bend to place her on the sand and I am young again. I am that little blonde girl who loved the sand and the sea and grew up with the smell of it on her clothes and in her heart. I look into Abby’s bright blue eyes as they flash with the light of the sun and the blue of the sea and I see it blossom within her: that love of the ocean which has already begun to grow within my older boy.
He is steering his pirate ship now, shouting out over the water but his words are whipped away by the wind. And Brian is digging another hole (he pretends to do this for the kids, but I know better), and Stryder is wide-eyed at the world and my cell phone is in the recesses of my bag and we are disconnected from the world.
Later, we trek back up the slope to the van with dry feet and sand in our hair but most of all, laughter in our eyes. I steal a kiss from Abby and breath deep the smell of the sea on her hair and we drive to dinner where we eat burritos and quesadillas and beans.
On the drive home, we all fall asleep except for Brian (of course) who is behind the wheel taking care of us like he always does. Home is waiting, and the day-to-day, but for just a little while longer I am a little girl again, and Hudson is a pirate, and Abby is a bird-chaser, and Stryder is a sand connoisseur, and Brian is digging for gold. And we are just we, nothing more.