My Little Boy and The Sea

A road trip to our favorite place. 20 minutes in, I had the boys change into their rash guards, put sunblock on their bodies. Garret and Morgan exchange delicious spurts of giggles after realizing where we were actually going. It had been quite some time since we last went. 

We park our truck and alight. The sea wall had been destroyed in some places. But the sea was beautiful as ever. Garret's brows furrow as he sits down on the brown sand. Morgan's cheeks puff up as it usually does when a grin starts. He gingerly steps on the sand where the very edge of waves touch the shore. He does not dive in. He scoops a handful of sand and peers at it laughing his Morgan laugh as he lets it run through his fingers. He digs his feet in, toes curling and  uncurling in between small stones, sea, revelry.  He walks further away exploring. I wade waist deep and go underneath. I surface and see Morgan gently lie on his side his arms extending, his right underwater, his left raised to the sky. His face one of pure delight. The water is ankle deep. He goes a little deeper. And his grin deepens as well. He lies on his back and then on his belly. One would look at my little boy and  think he is seeing the sea for the first time, as if he is just  getting to  know the sea. Slowly, carefully, gently, deeply, profoundly. Rain drops start to fall. He looks up briefly and continues to play and move his body feeling every bit of sand sea and rain.   I go underwater again, float and feel my body be weightless, buoyant in the water, no noise, only a sound, a hum that I can only describe as calm.

I ponder at the life the universe has given us. Our boys in particular, their very nature and how they interact with the world. There are lessons always somewhere along the most mundane of things, especially among them, life speaking, admonishing me:

To look at life with a singular focus on what really matters, not unlike scooping a mound of sand, to look at it, really look at it and see what is more important. Not status, fame, material wealth or glory.
 

Then to sift the mound of sand, letting it slowly run through my fingers knowing that what is left is what is meant to remain. And perhaps like Morgan laugh as whatever falls through, fall through. 

To be weightless, buoyant, arms outstretched, heart open,   to give up things that weigh me down. To let go of things that really hold no bearing on my life.

And when the rains come, to not  run away, but to bask in it, let it soak, seep through,  move my body, mind and spirit to wherever it goes.

 

To not be afraid to be lost and broken because losing my way  allows me to create new and better paths to take, because it means I can only be found and mended and therefore be one and whole again. 

I do not know if I am making any sense. I don't always have to be, I tell myself.  Perhaps as with countless times in my life, I am just getting to know life again.  Not unlike my little boy with the sea-- slowly, carefully, gently, deeply and profoundly.