And Then We Drove to the Ocean
We left Louisiana the way everyone should – with a plate-full of beignets and cup-full of cafe au late. And then we drove to the ocean. We’ve never taken a family vacation before. My boys have never seen the waves. The ocean is one thing that the imagination can’t outdo.
On our way, we swung up around the Mobile Bay and stopped at the USS Alabama for a picnic. This is a memory I have of being little myself. We had bought Popeye’s chicken and french fries. My brothers were fat-fingered and wildly in love with the gulls and the war ship. I cried a little as I relived that moment, the circle it made.
My boys only had peanut butter and honey sandwiches. They held hands afraid of the water, their first glimpse of forever horizon. They, too, fed the seagulls and joined the squawking chorus with their laughter.
We found our place for the rest of the week and hit the water running.
I wore a granny hat. We walked through nature reserves and counted lizards. We buried ourselves in the sand. We watched the sun set, and we collected shells.
Seth played so hard with them in the water. I sat in a chair and cried again, squeezing sand between fingers and toes. Ian rolled in the shallow water as in love. Every wave that came up made him laugh so hard he could barely breathe. They were all three brave and innocent.
Now home, on the cusp of newborn, I reconsider a million things. A time like that with family, especially a week with Daddy, can remind you how little is truly important and how much we spend on the unnecessaries. The beach was a rare cherry.
Right now. All I want is my family in our own place. To live in peace with God. And to continue to learn gratitude no matter.