Last summer I shared in my bulletin letter some observations about people at the beach. Here are two short vignettes of the same kind from this afternoon…
A boy and his father approach the spot they’ll stake out as their territory on the shore. As dad spreads the blanket and other beach equipment, his 6-year-old stands, hands on hips, facing the water and announces, “Dad, we are going to play in the OCEAN!” Dad looks up from his chores and joins in, “Yes – We – Are!”
They head towards the water, hand in hand, and I wonder at the boy’s joy and the dad’s love for his son and the gift the beach has just offered them, and they each other...
Not far away from my own piece of beach, a mom, dad and daughter are enjoying the shade of a large orange sherbet umbrella. Mom’s in one of those chairs with stubby legs, just right for the sand. Dad and daughter are on the family blanket. The little girl, 8 or 9 years old, asks her father, “Dad, are you going in the water?” “No,” says dad, “I’m just gonna hang out here with you.”
A smile as broad as the shoreline breaks on the girl’s face as she settles into her father’s company and he into hers...
Years from now neither the boy nor the girl may remember these exchanges on a sunny, long gone August afternoon. Still, such moments of joy and contentment will have made an invisible impression on young hearts, an imprint of a time when, for a moment, all seemed right with the world.
May no storm or tide erase what was written in the sand at Herring Cove this afternoon...
