Beaches

I didn't grow up near a beach. The few times we visited my grandparents who lived in the bay area of California, we took a trip or two to the shore. Due to my asthma, I had to stay on the sand while my siblings frolicked in the cold, cold Pacific. College at BYU Provo afforded me beautiful views of the mountains but no beach. My mission in east LA was close enough to the beach we could see it from certain areas on a clear day. Because I served during El Nino (and LA is choked with smog), that only happened a handful of times. After graduation I moved to Boston and my first apartment had unobstructed views of the Atlantic Ocean.

I only lived there for a few months, but I quickly developed a love for the beach. As soon as I woke up, I would fling open the curtains. Every day the water looked different and my favorite was when a storm was brewing. It was a beautiful smoky blue that hinted at the turmoil to come. After a storm passed it was a tranquil shade of turquoise. I started to understand why sailors refer to the seas as a person rather than just a huge body of water. When I moved to Boston I didn't know a soul and I found myself on the sand often. I'd look into the water and contemplate my life, how it hadn't turned out the way I thought it would, but it had somehow led me there nonetheless. I didn't know what was in store, but I had a feeling I was where I needed to be. Something about the sound of waves was conducive to this type of pondering and hoping. After a lot of drama and emotional trauma, I managed to find myself again while looking into that vast Atlantic Ocean.

As today was our first trip of the year to Lake Michigan, the girls were a bit wary upon arrival. They'd forgotten the feeling of sand, wind and waves (if you can even call them that! See how tiny?). I took each of their hands and stood on the shoreline and told them at the count of three we'd run into the water together. We charged into the deliciously cool lake all laughter and squeals. Then they asked to do it again. And again. And again. It wasn't long before they were stomping around the ankle deep water all on their own. The crowds don't come until after Memorial Day and having a stretch of sand to ourselves was heaven.

In my humble opinion, there's no play land that can beat the beach. Somehow the earth's most basic elements make better toys than anything we can manufacture. Liesel loved digging up small rocks and them throwing them to make a splash. Ireland poured water into and out of that tiny watering can endlessly. I don't know if she was trying to water the whole beach or what. A flock of seagulls aggressively parked next to us and I showed Liesel how scared they are of humans by walking towards one. The seagull promptly hobbled away. After that she went charging towards any seagull that came anywhere near our towels. I wish I'd gotten video of that, it was hilarious. When a flock of them took flight as she ran into the midst of them she let out a toddler yell that said she was queen of this beach.

When I started packing up, both girls protested and I had to smile. I didn't really want to leave either but I'm starting my 3rd trimester and I have to watch my energy levels. If I'm a little tired, I'm going to be extremely tired in about 30 min. I promised we'd come back. As always, we wish Brent could have been with us. Once we were home, I pealed off the girls swimsuits and plopped them in the bath. Now there's a nice culmination of sand on the bottom I need to clean out. I shampooed and conditioned their hair, slathered them in lotion, put them in clean undies and then heated up some milk. We don't do that much anymore... only on Sundays really. But after a day at the beach sometimes a nice, warm drink is just what the Dr ordered. They're watching Puss in Boots with their hair a tad lighter and their cheeks a bit rosier and I have a feeling they're going to sleep very well tonight.

As for me, I'm enjoying my own hot chocolate and feeling clean, exfoliated, sun-kissed, refreshed yet exhausted, and I'm already wondering when I can finagle another trip to the beach... when I can find myself again.