The first official week of summer has come to an end…and I’m exhausted. I think I took about three or four naps this week, slipping them in when I could. Thank you to all those kid-sitters who bailed us out in a busy week on the Vernon front. I found by the middle of the week, I didn’t even know what day it was…there is something to be said for the daily routine of the school day and after-school activities. I realize how much the kids are my anchor to the calendar.
And yet, after just a week, I’m starting to get into the flow. I’ll call my tiredness the jet-lag of summer. I’m sure I’ll experience it again on the other end. We’re already enjoying the luxury of waking up earlier, not having to leave the house till after nine, longer snuggles in the morning, coffee in the suddenly-bright backyard. Outside of swimming lessons, Justine has been in someone’s pool every other day. And whenever possible, we have gone down to the beach in the evenings for a walk. We hunt for sea glass—which we find every time. I love the honing in, the quest, the finding those bright spots of green in the zillion grains of sand. Beauty is like that. It can be a challenge to find it sometimes: but suddenly, its the only thing you see. The key is to keep looking.
But often we find other things…tuna crabs washed up in a crooked tide-line of red and pink (some still moving, at Justine’s shock/delight), blue valella (little wind-sailing non-stinging jellyfish), tiny sand crab skeletons…the sea is always offering new gifts from below the surface. For me, just to feel the wet sand in my toes and absorb those negative ions is a revelation at the end of the long day. No matter how annoyed I was at life throughout the day, I can feel the weight lifting. Both of us are better people by the time we come home. These tools for happiness are at our disposal and we love to use them. The gratitude comes in waves, refreshing us again.
“To see a world in a grain of sand and heaven in a wild flower Hold infinity in the palms of your hand and eternity in an hour.” — William Blake