day 128: do I have to?

Today’s the day. The last one, to be exact. No agenda, other than the beach, morning and evening, and then whatever else we found fun to do. And that’s precisely what we did.

Breakfast, then straight to the beach. Each day has started that way, I’m afraid it’s become a routine, yet one that won’t be repeated again for quite some time. And I kinda hated it that I had told the girls about that shark attack the day before. Cause today, leery was the word when it came to them and the water. They went in, but it didn’t go past their knees, and their new boogies boards saw only sand. (Parenting Note: I’ve always intended for my kids to be preciously balanced between sheltered and exposed to the evils of the world. So yes, they knew of the attack. I wanted them to know why it was still ok to get in the water, what they could do in the “what-if” scenarios, and I knew they could pray for that girl and her family….and they did.)

Even so , the beach wasn’t a wash-out today. Water was warmer than before, thanks to the full moon fading away. And even though there were more aircraft patrolling the waters and more lifeguard watches up and down the beach, the girls still played in the surf, the sand, and with my electronics in the safety of the shade tent. And then, to my own personal excitement, we dolphin watched. And spotted. Six times, to be exact. In the wild. There is simply nothing cooler than that.

Back to the house for a late lunch, cartoons, showers. I struggled trying to uncover our afternoon adventure. The girls were getting restless, but I couldn’t go too far or too elaborate, because I was on dinner duty tonight. To Corolla we went to an eclectic ice cream shop/gift shop/craft place. It was weird, all rolled into one. We each made a sand art piece—a shape of our choice molded into the sand, decorated with shells and sea glass to our liking, and then plaster poured in. We spent the 40 drying minutes across the street with bowls of chocolate Dippin’ Dots and window shopping turned real shopping in Michaels, an intriguing store with shark jaws, shells, fossils, incense, and jewelry—our mecca. We landed a few sweet deals, then it was back to grab our sand creations. A spontaneous afternoon we each enjoyed.

After diner, it was back to my other addiction: nightly walks on the beach. I knew I shouldn’t have set high expectations for this last nightly stroll. It was almost a disaster, thanks to one whiny, uncooperative child. I wanted so badly to enjoy it, but sadly, she made it difficult. She was simply done for the night, and almost depressingly, so was our trip.

This stay at the beach has been like a drug for me. I love every single part about it. None of it even bothers me, not even the sand I know I’ll be finding in our belongings for weeks to come. Is it pathetic that I feel mildly depressed now? And part of it is this: even though I miss Aaron so much more while I’m here, I conversely feel the happiest I can without him while we’re at the beach. Anyone want to explain to me how that’s possible?