A Glass Darkly

"It's a shame we didn't do this when Mom was still around to enjoy it," my sister said to me the other day at the beach. She was rolling the pastry for our pumpkin pie. 

I swiveled the tall stool on the other side of the counter around from my ocean view to face her. "I was just thinking of Mom, too," I said.

"Well, she's never far from thought," my sister answered, and she was right. 

I had been thinking all week of when this very same group had gathered at the beach eleven years ago for my mom's 70th. It was June and the summer was young, and so it seemed we all were. My mom was a vigorous new septuagenarian, my older nephews were in their teens, my sister's kids were 18 months and nearly 4, and this blog was just a few months into its run. Despite the years in between, my impressions then reflect our experiences now.

Seaside 

This evening our dog chased a ball through the surf, leaving crescents of ragged claw-shaped prints across a field of tiny air bubbles in the flat, wet sand. Tonight the stars fill the sky in a way that is impossible in the light-washed nights of the city where I live. What will tomorrow be like? 

Seaside 2: What We Take with Us: 

I had a beach cruiser when I lived at the beach. What a ride! It was a cool black and pink one-speed Schwinn with high, padded handle bars, a wide, soft seat, nobby tires for some traction in the sand, and flat pedals so you could ride barefoot down the boardwalk. Gosh, I loved that bike. 

 

When we moved north, I brought my beach cruiser with me, but it was totally unsuited for the roads in my new town; they were way too hilly. I had been warned that I wouldn't get a lot of use out of it in the place that I was moving, but I couldn't let it go. Eventually, I bought another bike, and the cruiser decayed away in a leaky outdoor shed. The chain rusted; the tires went flat; the cushy handlebars cracked, and squirrels chewed through the seat cover and made off with the padding for their nests. I'm embarrassed to admit that eventually it ended up in the trash on another moving day, but I was glad when someone took it before the garbage truck came. 

 

It turned out to be another tragic lesson on the difference between what we need and what we want-- my beach cruiser totally deserved better. 

 Seaside 3: I Love an Ocean 

Today my nephew and I were sitting in the surf. He's almost four and has a healthy respect for the sea; in fact, he's terrified of it, so we were way up at the waterline where the waves could just reach us. I don't usually sit at all at the beach, and I'm not one to sunbathe or nap, either. I like to swim, or beach comb, or play frisbee or catch, or build things in the sand, but sitting still, not so much. Still, there we were, the outgoing tide carving little gullies beneath our heels and butts, and looking around, I noticed that we were surrounded by hundreds of tiny little clams about the size of a baby's fingernail. They were translucent shades of white, orange or blue with the finest of stripes and subtle variations in color. When the water left them temporarily high and dry, they would each extend a teeny, nearly transparent, fleshy foot to flip themselves vertical and then disappear beneath the sand in a blink. Enchanted, I showed my nephew, and we watched them together for a while. I picked a couple up and put them in some sand in his hand, and they buried themselves there. "Isn't that cool?" I asked him. 

 

He nodded. "I love an ocean," he sighed. 

Seaside 7: Sunset Sunrise 

On the east coast, the sun does not set over the ocean. There are lovely sunrises for those who get up early enough, but for a sunset over water, you have to be on a mighty big lake or bay. Tonight, as the sunset washed the sky behind a bunch of houses and trees to our west a faded pink, we bid the first farewell of our vacation. My mom has a 6 AM flight in the morning, and so she left to stay with some friends who live closer to the airport. After yet another perfect day at the beach, some late afternoon Wii Karaoke, and a great dinner of crab cakes, homemade slaw, and salads (it pays to have high-end leftovers), there were tears-- as there always are when our family parts-- and the gray light of the dusky evening seemed to reinforce the undeniable fact that all that was left of our vacation was the packing up and getting out of the rental place by 10 AM.