Tides

Summer is waning.

We arrived home late, late Monday night – or rather early, early Tuesday morning. Just today I was able to make some headway through the piles of dirty laundry and such that spilled out of our duffel bags. But we had to get to the beach. Had to. I made a quick dinner and we headed down.

The light is different. There are fewer cars out there, fewer families picnicking. The tides are bigger right now (I think that’s because we are approaching the full moon - and if I remember all this correctly, the tides at the full moon closest to the autumnal equinox next month should be even more dramatic) and there was a bit of sandbar visible that usually is not. It’s cooler earlier in the evening. We built a fire, put on our sweatshirts.

The kids went running out and started digging around to see what they could find amid the tidal pools around the sandbar. They found a wild looking sand worm (8 inches or so long) and some really big quahogs.

It’s odd to think that on Monday morning we were getting in a last bit of pool time in 100+ degree heat. Our trip was overall good. I’m still trying to process some of the more classic and/or painful family moments. It was hot. I’m glad to be home.

C has middle-school orientation tomorrow and he’s extremely nervous. S’s sleep routines are all disrupted from the trip and bedtime has been tough the last couple of nights. M, surprisingly, is the most even-keeled of the bunch right now.

My husband’s bad schedule at work starts Friday. School starts Tuesday. My office is approaching some big milestones and deadlines.

When everything is busy and intense - or tiring and dramatic as our trip was, I seem to need that beach time even more. The ebb and flow of the tides is reassuring and calming. It reminds me that there is an ebb and flow to life – and even if I don’t recognize which stage of the tide I am at, it is happening.

I breathe deeply, warm my feet by our small fire, sip some wine and watch my kids dig and discover, laugh and play. This is where I belong.