Easter Weekend 2005

Sarah dug into the sand alongside the dogs, hands and paws scrambling in unison. My mother was back at the trailer with my sisters. To my right, a surf fisherman played with his children along side his chair, cooler, and upright pole stuck into a holder way, but no one else was in view. The tide was going out, and I watched the periwinkles cling to the sand as a wave receded, and then dig frantically underneath, so in less than a minute, it looked like they had never been there.

I heard Sarah laughing out loud. I smiled, knowing that she was happier here at the beach. Bolder. Louder. With more energy. The love of her grandparents, aunts, uncles, and familiar neighbors made this place more of a home than our house in Columbia.

I would never have let Sarah get that far away from me while we were living in the San Francisco Bay Area. Too many strangers made for too much mother anxiety. But here, I could see potential threats coming from a long ways off. On this mostly empty beach, the wide physical spaces allowed us corresponding psychological space.

So, I walked quietly, alone for a moment, enjoying the squeak of the sand beneath my steps. I occasionally stepped into sea froth left behind by a departing wave, adding a crinkling sensation, like walking on bubble wrap. The waves sighed and hissed smoothly in my ears.

More than once, I have run this beach, pounding my feet into the wet sand with anger and frustration. Why? I would be thinking. Why me? Something had made me unhappy, and I was railing against it. Fighting it. I expected to be happy, and was surprised and angry that I wasn’t happy all the time. I ran to escape it, to challenge it. To show it I was not beaten.

Now, I walk. Age, experience, and motherhood changed me from a child with childish expectations to a woman with adult perspective. I learned I only have moments of happiness, islands in time like the island I walked on. I learned that when I find one of these islands, I should enjoy it. Like this moment. Steady beat of the sea. Movement of my legs. Breeze on my legs, belly, and hair. The beat of my heart. My child running to me across a large expanse of free flowing sand.

We walked back to watch the sun set over the sound with my sisters, my mother. Legs strong. Knowing the moment is what matters.