Breaking Waves and Appreciating Life

The sand scalds the soles of my feet and wanders through my toes like white, powdery flour in a churning sifter.  It cakes where my ankle meets my shin, and slowly floats off, wave after wave. The salt water takes over my skin, and leaves a dusty, grainy blanket over my creases and freckles.  The wind blows my hair across my face, it sticks to my cheeks as they brown in the sun, like the pale white, fluffy marshmallows that toast over embers in a campfire.  The water crashes on the shore and pulls itself back in, as if it’s not sure if it really is coming or going.  The aroma of the ocean comes slowly into my body, and trickles out with every breath, leaving a bitter but familiar taste in my mouth, like salt water, and shell fish, and fresh ocean air.

The earth curves at the end of the horizon, as far as I can see.  The waves move towards me in a constant rhythm, some large, and some small.  They push against my legs, and pull my knees behind me, moving my entire body in the same type of rhythmic beauty. They are like drums that beat louder and harder as they move closer down the way in a marching band, but instead of passing me by, they take me along and bumpy and swaying ride.  The sun is bright in the sky, like the yolk from an egg fresh out of the coop, a perfect round, so bright that it reflects off of my sunglasses and glimmers in the sand.  The clouds, white like cotton balls, move slowly across the blue canvas of an atmosphere, matching so closely to my son’s soft blue eyes.

My little boy jumps off of his feet and wraps his arms around my tender, meat-red, sunburned shoulders.  It stings like a scraped knee, like alcohol on an open wound, but I can’t let it bother me.  Nothing can bother me on this glorious day, joyful day. 

At 7 and 4, my children experience the ocean, and it has a gentle beauty like nothing I’ve ever seen.  They dance in the cold, salty water, bouncing and tumbling, care-free and full of allure.  They fill my spirit with bright laughter, and innocent curiosity.  They ride in the waves, as they lift them up, and wash them back into the shore like starfish; hopeful and brimming with wonder.  They allow the sea to take them wherever it will, the water seeping through their hair, dripping down their chests and rushing back up onto their faces. 

My son faces me, my back towards the vast ocean, and says, “Mom, don’t look towards the waves.  Just make a guess about then they will come.” 

I gently smile at him and say, “Okay, but I’d like a warning, you know, to know when they’re about to take us.”

He smiles back at me, his forehead pressed against mine.  His face is so close to me that I can count every freckle like a connect-the –dot picture. “Mom, I know when they’re coming, and I’ll protect you, just don’t let go.” 

I think to myself, he doesn’t know.  He doesn’t know that I’ll never let go.  I’ll always hold him close, even when the tides are high and the wind is blowing fierce.  When the crashing waves overtake us, I’ll still hold on.

His eyes grow large, his smile widens his face, his dimples appear and glimmer in the bright day, “Mom, it’s coming.”

I press my nose into his, “Ok, I’ll hold on tight.” I make a promise, that with all intentions I plan to keep.

In a quick glimpse, our heads fall under the frigid water and I  blow fast air out of my nose.  I wrap my arms around his waist as we twirl and tumble underneath the water.  He grabs onto the straps of my swimsuit.  He pulls me even closer to  him.  We slowly sit there, underneath the water, holding our breath, until the sand appears underneath our bottoms, and water clears across my face and the back of his head.  His his body on top of mine, wet hair covering my eyes and sand settling on the top of my cheeks, he lays with his head in my chest, and pulls it up to me.

My legs tangled in his, blinded by the sun, I say, “Wow, that was a big wave.”

He kneels over my chest, looks down at me with a toothless grin, and explains, “But mom, you held onto me.  I knew you wouldn’t let go.”

There’s lots of challenging moments as parents, and sometimes it’s hard to see the glimmer in the sand that occurs between them.  But days like these, they remind me that there is joy, and compassion, and hope.  There is pure and innocent pleasure that exists underneath the frustration, and disappointment, and stressful turmoil of day-to-day life. 

Dear Lord, or spirit, or whatever you may call it, thank you for this day. Thank you for the salt, and the ocean, and the strapping feeling of seaweed around my thighs.  Thank you for the soft breeze that blows the hair across my face, the rough current of the waves of the ocean, and the marvelous wonder that flourishes within the deep soles of my children.

With every passing moment that is hopeful, that is glorious, that is purely magnificent.  I look at the waves, at the coast, at the sky, at my children.  Thank you for this moment.  My pure gratitude for this life, with every passing day. Thank you for the ocean, and new experiences, and everything that is glory, that is greatness, that is love.