The Breeze And Us
The sun set, we lit a small fire…the subtle breeze seemed to be a foreshadowing of the cooler days to come. I settled into my camping chair and into the dusk, and I focused my thoughts on the day we had.
Like most days this summer, we began with coffee and toast on the back porch. The seagulls sang their songs as we sat in silence, letting the morning roll in, like the waves, slowly and softly. The inevitability of the day ahead looming in front of us, knowing that any minute "they" would wake up and take over. And thus, our day filled with swimmies, SPF, soggy diapers and sandcastles would begin.
But not yet, because right now there’s just the breeze and us.
Gone are the days when I can just slather on the tanning oil, grab my Wayfarers and saunter on down to the beach. Now I damn near need a U-Haul for all the supplies "they" need. We head down to the waterline on the hot sand. In between the SPF applications, the soggy diaper changing and the sand in sandwich, I feel that cool breeze again. I look up. And again I’m reminded that soon we’ll be back in the city, "they’ll" be back in school and he’ll be back to 12 hour days.
But not yet. Right now there’s just the breeze and us.
Layered with salt and sand and the tingling of a not yet realized sun burn, we head back to the house. The house, with its expansive porch, large picture window and “Life Is Better at The Beach" welcome mat is a long way from the grey shingled shack I spent the summer in as a kid. The breeze comes in through the bedroom windows. "They" fall asleep with sandy feet, but it doesn’t matter here. It shouldn't matter anywhere.
The sun sets, he lights a small fire. Just the Breeze and Us.
Reflection quiets the mind,
brings gratitude and reminds us
that its actually the smallest of moments
that are the biggest.