Crashing Surf

We have played together underneath the sky so big, so wide. Underneath sunshine we have played in the surf, foamy delight, white surf. I take their little hands – one, two, and three – and we walk through waves. We are pushed and pulled and their laughter floats up to the seagulls. A song fills my head – children’s laughter and screeching seagulls, the crashing surf, the salt-scented wind. We build half-dilapidated sand castles framed by broken sea shells and dried out seaweed. I touch her sun-kissed, freckled cheek with the back of my hand – a mother’s caress.

I am getting tired. Life unfolding, expanding and contracting at the same time. They grow as I shrink. I lay on my back in the hot sand and close my eyes to the warm sun. A rest. A moment. Just one rest for just one moment. Though I do not see them I know they are there. One, two, and three. They are close, ever so close and I fall into bliss with the knowledge.

Time tick tocks by and when I open my eyes the sun is still high in the sky. Seagulls still screech their joy and the wind still blows a salty smell. But they are no longer near. Bliss falling away. My eyes scan the beach until at last they find them. They are walking through the waves hand in hand. They are pushed and pulled and their laughter floats up and is delivered to me on the current of the wind. Gracious wind.

A moment of panic seizes my tired heart. They are going out too far. I am not there; their hands are not in mine. What will happen to them? Just as the thoughts begin to overwhelm me to tears they disappear into the ocean. There is an explosion within my heart, my mind, my soul. They are gone.

As I let out the breath, which has been waiting ever so patiently to be released, I see them. Three smooth, grey-rounded backs and crescent tails. They leap out of the water and disappear again. I stand up and make my way to the crashing surf – foamy delight. But I know I cannot go where they go anymore. The three grey heads turn to look at me and though they are no longer my one, two, and three…they are still my one, two, and three.

They throw their heads back and release a sound, a clicking, a high-pitched noise. They are laughing. Still. I smile to them and lift my hand. Good-bye. I return to my place on the sandy beach amidst half-dilapidated sand castles framed by broken sea shells and dried out sea weed. I am tired. Life unfolding, expanding and contracting at the same time. I lay on my back in the hot sand and close my eyes to the warm sun. A rest. A moment. Just one rest for just one moment. Though I do not see them, I know they are there. One, two, and three. They are close, ever so close and I fall into bliss with the knowledge.

 

 

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