Sand

I hate sand. I don’t know at what point I started hating sand, but it was early on. In high school, when we went to the beach, I took every precaution to avoid getting sand on me. But, once again, a child changes everything…

After spending probably an hour jumping in the waves, I wrestled Davis out of the water and we headed to our beach blanket. I was careful to keep my sandy feet off the blanket, while Davis just stomped right onto it, not knowing sand etiquette. I tried to stop him, but he was already plowing right on through. I started to get a little frustrated, then finally just gave up and let him dance around the blanket with his sand-covered feet. I sat there wondering what we were going to do now that we were out of the water. There’s basically two things you can do at the beach, play in the water or play in the sand. After some serious thought, I stood up from my sandy blanket and headed to the wet sand, Davis tagging right along. When I had found a good spot, I plopped myself right down with reckless abandon. I began digging my fingers into the grainy substance, letting it cover my hands and bury under my fingernails. I watched Davis as he did the same. I picked up handfuls and covered my feet and his. I sat as he kicked it off and the sand splatted on my legs and arms. We sat and made dribble castles and knocked them over and started again. We dug deep for hidden shells worthy of being thrown into the ocean. The sand and I were one. I sat and watched my child and thought about how much a person can change you. How a child can change you. How he can make you experience life completely differently. All of a sudden, it wasn’t about sand anymore, it was about enjoying every second of every minute, living deeply, not worrying about being uncomfortable, but diving in whole hog. I sat there covered in sand, staring at my child and watched him grow up right before my eyes and decided that never again would I let things like being uncomfortable or being too tired or scared make me miss the joy of experiencing Davis and the joy of discovery and the beauty of sand…

Beach Day

For years, 10 to be exact, we have lived at the beach. We take it for granted. Summers have passed when our feet haven’t even touched the sand. But, this summer is going to be different because I have a little fella who loves the beach and begs to go there, literally. Last week, Davis and I went to the beach twice. The first time was very impromptu – I was in a dress from work and he was in his regular school clothes. I thought it would be nice to just go and walk and throw shells into the waves. By the time it was all said and done, Davis and I were wading in the water, up to his knees, giggling at every passing wave. After having so much fun, I decided that we would have a real beach day on Friday. I picked Davis up from school and we changed into our swimsuits. We spent all afternoon at the beach, jumping in the waves, Davis dragging me out as far as I would let him, making dribble castles with wet sand, throwing wet sand, burying our feet in wet sand, etc. I didn’t take a watch with me on purpose because I just wanted to freely enjoy the beach and my child. By the time we got into the car it was 3 o’clock. We came home sandy and beach-tired. After showers, we both went to sleep. On that following Sunday evening, Tracy, Davis, and I were sitting at the table having dinner. It was around 6:30 PM, Davis started saying I want to go to the beach, I want to go the beach. I explained that it was too late to go to the beach and that we would go another day. He continued to beg as I continued to explain. Finally Tracy asked, “Davis, do you know what time it is?” Davis responded, “Yes, Daddy, it’s beach time.”