“. . . and walk upon the beach”
July 21, 2013
I had a meltdown the other night. As we watched the storm roll in and wondered if our picnic/harbor concert plans would be thwarted by the weather, I felt my restlessness turn into teary-eyed emotion. With the security of being home with my folks, I began to just vent my feelings, crying as I did so.
As with many of my days on this leg of my summer visits, much of this afternoon had been spent hanging out with kids, playing in the water. And as I thought of the fact that I would be leaving in just a few days, I just started to sputter about not being ready to go yet . . . and started to cry. I must have sounded like a silly kid, blabbering on about how I “didn’t want to go.” But that’s the way I was feeling. There in the security of my mother’s home, I cried.
I’m too old to do that. Or so it feels. But I guess in the same way that a mother is always a mother, a daughter is always a daughter. Even if that daughter happens to be a whining one ☺
The older I get, the harder it gets to pick up and move on. The more I want to settle in where I am. And frankly, I have had a summer of blessedness. I have had bountiful, family-filled times. I got to visit with my grandparents, with all but one of the sibling family units this summer, plus a few of the cousins and, blessedly, my mother. I got to bum around with quite a few little ones who, perfect though they might not be, have been practically perfect for me.
No, I’m not ready for summer to end. God, grant me the serenity to accept the things . . .
We took a road trip to the beach 2 days ago. After melting, more and more, each day, to the point where even the lake was like a giant bathtub, we decided the only thing left to do was head for the ocean. It was a lot of driving for a short period of time, since we couldn’t leave till Mel finished work for the morning, and I had a visit I still had to make that night before flying out in the morning. But we decided it was worth trying and, good Lord, was it ever! Seeing the pure, watery joy on the children’s faces. Gasping at the icy-cold shock of that first entry into the salty water. Watching my own hands through my swim goggles, bubbles streaming over them, as I did a few icy-cold strokes in the waves. After playing about a bit, I went back to our stuff pile to get my camera, thinking I would snap some shots of the kids as they played wave-jumping games with their mother. As I walked back towards the water, though, I noticed my shadow and paused for a bit of my own shadow-fun there on the sand.