The sun tilts towards the horizon while the family walks the beach on our last night. Four year old Margo collects shells with holes, to string necklaces and bracelets. Lulu, the dutiful two years old cousin, follows closely behind-- joyful to be included. Grandpa, daughters, grandchildren meander along in peaceful cadence--for we are here for no other reason than to enjoy the beauty of beach, sea, and one another.
But the night sea is irresistible and Odyssey Sirens draws us one by one into the surf. First in is our 16 year old. His aunt follows. In the corner of my eye, her husband is a flash of movement. He returns minutes later in swim trunks to follow her into the water. The six year old is next. As is the fourteen year old.
Tony shouts, "You should go in."
I resist. For I am dry; it will soon be dark; I am content to sit on the sand soaking in all that needs to be soaked.
The ocean gang is body surfing. How can I miss the last night of body surfing with children and grandchildren? I give into the pull of the sea. Wave after wave.
"Party wave," my grandson calls out.
What is that?
He explains to everyone, "It's a wave we all take in together." So we tighten our distance. Poise ourself and on cue, we pause, wait, kick, stroke, and ride the wave into the shore.
I am filled with a mix of emotions. Gratitude rules. But sadness follows, for the moment is so exquisite and so rare that it almost aches.
It is pure and unencumbered by the minutia of everyday.
It is at this pinnacle when the almost-full moon casts its light on the water. Perfection surpasses itself when just up the beach, fireworks burst. Warm water, rolling waves, loved ones~~and sparkles of red, silver, and white fill the dark sky.
"Last party wave!" But my grandson and I miss it.
"Wait, we'll catch the next one," I say to him, but it's not curling quite right, so we let it pass, and then another, but as the next one builds, we both sense it's the winner. With only a second to push into its bite, together we jump forward. Instantaneous. Bam. It's a strong one and I am thrust forward.
We land at the same time. I pull myself out of the water, and there's a fist bump waiting.
But the night sea is irresistible and Odyssey Sirens draws us one by one into the surf. First in is our 16 year old. His aunt follows. In the corner of my eye, her husband is a flash of movement. He returns minutes later in swim trunks to follow her into the water. The six year old is next. As is the fourteen year old.
Tony shouts, "You should go in."
I resist. For I am dry; it will soon be dark; I am content to sit on the sand soaking in all that needs to be soaked.
The ocean gang is body surfing. How can I miss the last night of body surfing with children and grandchildren? I give into the pull of the sea. Wave after wave.
"Party wave," my grandson calls out.
What is that?
He explains to everyone, "It's a wave we all take in together." So we tighten our distance. Poise ourself and on cue, we pause, wait, kick, stroke, and ride the wave into the shore.
I am filled with a mix of emotions. Gratitude rules. But sadness follows, for the moment is so exquisite and so rare that it almost aches.
It is pure and unencumbered by the minutia of everyday.
It is at this pinnacle when the almost-full moon casts its light on the water. Perfection surpasses itself when just up the beach, fireworks burst. Warm water, rolling waves, loved ones~~and sparkles of red, silver, and white fill the dark sky.
"Last party wave!" But my grandson and I miss it.
"Wait, we'll catch the next one," I say to him, but it's not curling quite right, so we let it pass, and then another, but as the next one builds, we both sense it's the winner. With only a second to push into its bite, together we jump forward. Instantaneous. Bam. It's a strong one and I am thrust forward.
We land at the same time. I pull myself out of the water, and there's a fist bump waiting.
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