The sun was hot but the breeze off the ocean was cool. The water was ice under my toes. It took ten minutes to get up to my waist in the surf, each tiny wave bringing another shock. Finally I dunked under and my grandchildren laughed as I was upended by an unexpected roll of the water. We danced like ballerinas and swam like mermaids. Three-year-old Titus talked about the "fithsh" in the water and brayed when he had to submit to sunscreen. When I asked him his favorite part of the week, he said "when my Daddy took me crabbing." Five-year Annabelle said, "when my Daddy made me swim without my floaties." Funny that, because she screamed and wailed as he coaxed her to let go in the pool. Big girl Eden is only five too, but has been diving in the depths for years. Fearless 18-month-old Tatum, apparently feeling no pain, jumped gleefully into any body of water with abandon. The 7-month-old twins, Addison and Bennett, only cried when they weren't allowed to be in the middle of the party. Each child, so unique from the other, all precious. With six of our eight grands with us, there were lots of those moments that you never forget. Plenty of exhaustion, plenty of naps, lots of laughter. Now that we're home, I miss them all terribly, though I'm glad it's not my job to raise them.
I don't know why we don't take two weeks of vacation. It starts with seven days at the beach and then we need another seven to recover. Days later, and my clothes still aren't unpacked, there's a film of sand on everything, and I mysteriously need a nap every afternoon. I'm already thinking of next year's trip and what it would take to lose fifty pounds before then. Maybe I'll start exercising, eating right and throw my old bathing suit out while I'm at it. These themes keep turning up in my mind. Then there's another theme: I'll think about it tomorra...
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