The Beach

The joy of wide open and vast spaces. Flying in an airplane. Hiking and camping in the Grand Canyon. Overlooking the valley while climbing Cathedral Ledge. Star Gazing on a frozen lake. Hiking the Tetons. Playing the piano in front of a crowd of over 100 people. SCUBA diving. These awe struck moments are forever burned in my memory. Anywhere with a view larger than thyself and with sobering perspective makes me take in a deep breath. And now as I am watching my children warm up and now roam and run free on the beach I see how they are still so small. Take in a deep breath. Do you smell the ocean air? I said to myself.

The boys and I just returned from a two night – three day journey to visit grandparents at the beach. It was the first time I took the two boys by myself overnight anywhere without their father and for a car ride longer than an hour and a half. “Timing is everything,” said our pediatrician when I took in Asher that morning to check a very puffy eye from a mosquito bite. Timing, car games, toys, books, and of course yummy food and savory snacks WAS everything for the long car ride. Of course I was not the only grown up at our destination. We were staying at Grammy and Grampa’s house. And each morning at around 9:30am we were at the beach.

Beach Day One
It was windy but warm and there wasn’t a soul or child to play with at the beach. We touched explored the whelk egg cases, skate egg cases (“Mermaid Purses”), seaweed, chasing seagulls, the cool water tickling our toes, rocks, seashells, crab shells, the wind, the tide, digging holes, and skipping stones. The children ran around the beach, and flirted with the ocean. (Recommended before beach and after beach reading Wave by Suzy Lee). That evening the children flew kites for the first time with their grandparents and Uncle. Asher held on to the kite as it soared above him and walked around as if it was a secure extension of his being. Or rather he seemed a bit oblivious and distracted by all the children that had showed up for the later part of the day.

“Do you see the shark? Look. It’s a shark-kite way way up in the sky, Asher. Over there. Someone is flying a shark kite.”
He noticed it but he didn’t seem too enthralled. And then…
“Momma!” He wailed as he almost drops the kite but hands it off as he runs to me and curls up into a squatting ball.
“Oh, Asher. Are you scared?”
“Yeeessss,” he whimpers.
“The shark won’t hurt you, it’s a kite.”
But this child’s imagination is vivid, full of story lines told and not yet told. So I can only imagine that he thought the shark was going to cut his kite or dive down from the sky and eat him up. I confirmed later that yes indeed he was frightened of the shark doing just that. He knew it wasn’t a real shark, but it still scared him that it would bang into his kite and hurt him. Perspective. The fear of wide open spaces.

Little brother Finn sat complacently on the sand, feeling the wind catch his breath and pointing up into the sky as we watched the colorful kites and tails whip in the wind.

For dinner we ate lobsters. Conversation went a bit like this.

“Lobster. Why are there yellow clips around his leg.” His eyes are wide open staring at the claw.
“Um.” We all stumble about the conversation that will proceed about the food we are about to eat.
“We forgot to say Amen, Asher.” (Grace isn’t going to happen yet until there are a few questions answered.)
“Why are there yellow clips around his leg,” he restates looking at his grandmother’s lobster.
“They are rubber bands and they keep his claws closed so he won’t open them.”
“He’s not alive,” I chime in. Thinking he may be afraid it’s going to leap of someone plate, it does look pretty mad, it’s all red.
“Why?”
“He’s cooked. We cooked him.” My brother adds.
“Was he mad?”
“He didn’t have time to be mad…” my brother jokes.

And now you know where the rest of the conversation went. We explained where he came from, how he has gills, claws and what they are used for, where his mouth is, eyes, and we classified the crustacean. It was science and it didn’t seem to bother him in the least because he liked eating the lobster meat the creature provided us. I always thought he would be a vegetarian. It still is too early to tell, but if I was as inquisitive as he was at 3 I would have been a vegetarian, perhaps Vegan. Some days I am, and some days I just reach for the protein that I am accustomed to. Amen.

Beach Day TwoOur last was a quintessential beach day. Kids. From all over. Immediately children ran circles around each other trying to introduce themselves in their playful way. Beach toys were a common good. Everyone was fair. I dug a hole for Finn at the edge of the tide so water filled and drained his hole while he kicked and sunk his feet. Giggling he was more brave today. Asher stomped around in the water waste deep and never asked me to play with him once. You knew everyone was happy when Asher got flung in the face with wet sand by accident and stated to a boy’s father “It’s alright, I can just go wash it off in the ocean.” And off he went only to come back smiling and willing to play more. When grandparents arrived with lunch everyone was weary and snuggled up while wrapped in oversized beach towels warmed by the sun. I even took Asher to the beach snack bar for a Sponge Bob banana ice cream with blueberry gumballs for eyes. He doesn’t even know Sponge Bob, but we called him by his proper name and he even shared it with his brother back at the beach blanket.

“I want to go back to Cape Cod,” Asher said to me today. Real soon. It may not be the beach, but the mountains with expansive views in New England are calling your 3 year old name.

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