Wednesday, August 23, 2017


I sat in the sand as the water whirled past me on each side. The salty air whipping my face. The sun trying to peak out through the clouds. 

My husband and my oldest boy are in view riding the waves. My girls run around in front of me, jumping over waves one moment and bending down to pick up a curious looking seashell the next.

My youngest is sitting curled up in my lap. He has not enjoyed the beach much so far. The water, with it’s constant motion and roar, are a little much for him. He has enjoyed the sand but it has not captured his interest enough to let me out of his sight. 

I sat down in the water and invited him to sit with me. He hesitated at first but his desire to sit with me outweighed his fear of the water. At first he was lying on my lap facing the ocean. But he did not like the way the water would race up to his toes and lap at them. So he turned around and nestled into me. 

“Hold you, Mommy,” he said. So I held him. 

I started thinking, next year when we come, he will probably like the water. My others have faced their fears year by year and next year he will probably have gained some courage and will want to be jumping the waves with his Daddy and older brother. 

So I sit, holding him, as he squeezes my arm every time the water trickles up to us. His squishy little cheek up against mine. His warm breath against my neck. I desperately wanted a picture of us to capture the moment. But I decided to cherish the moment instead. He will not be a baby snuggled up in my arms for long.