sunshine for a bleak midwinter

What does one do when one returns to Pittsburgh from a beach Thanksgiving to find a grey-shrouded, mist-breathing Midwinter has settled on her heavy haunches to brood until spring hatches?

This particular someone has elected to create atmosphere with James Taylor’s Christmas CD and traipse down recent-memory’s lane while the edges of a wan sunset attempt to tie-dye the raggedy-grey edges of a horizon outside the window.

In my mind’s eye, I’m seeing this:

Just a few days ago, I was teaching Little Friend what it means to be a bad mother:

1.  Go to the beach without packing a single t-shirt for Little Friend.

2.  Go to the beach without packing a single swimsuit for Little Friend.

3.  Let Little Friend eat sand.

Just a few days ago, I was teaching Little Friend what it means to be a redeemed mother:

1.  Let Little Friend play in whatever clothes have been packed.

2.  Substitute a birthday suit for a swimwuit.

3.  Let Little Friend eat sand.

You can always wipe off a tongue.

That’s my life lesson for today: you can always wipe off a tongue.

The other lesson I learned on our beach romp was also simple: a child is a universe.  We parents get to experience the sheer, lonely joy of bearing witness in the very marrow of our bones to what a miracle this little universe is.  To parents, even a simple beach romp is nothing short of breath-snatching.

As further proof of a parent’s all-forgiving joy, I offer up my child, who took the greatest delight in whipping sand at A-Rod speeds toward any loved one within arm’s reach.  Even with gobs of sand hurtling toward my camera lens, my heart pitter-pattered a bit faster with love for this urchin.

And if a loved one couldn’t be found, well, beach dogs beware…

Running, throwing, jumping to the white noise symphony of low tide sucking on sand.

And when the jumping and exploring escapades have been exhausted, the beach, albeit without a single ball, kite, or shovel in sight, still offers delights.

Like birthday cake baking.  And candle-blowing.

And letter writing.

Meanwhile, parents stand by with trigger happy fingers to catalogue every precious second of this universe’s existence.

It’s just a day at the beach.  But it’s all I need to drive the bleak midwinter away.

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6 Comments

  1. Marge Smithson said:

    Wish I had a little friend.

    November 28, 2011
    Reply
  2. Thank goodness for stain removing detergents and washing machines :) I’m glad you let her play in her clothes, they can always be replaced! Plus, you have a lot less to worry about getting burned :) Little friend is pretty much adorable!

    November 28, 2011
    Reply
  3. Beautiful pictures! Sounds like the perfect day. I so wish I lived nearer to the beach.
    ~FringeGirl

    November 29, 2011
    Reply
  4. Leah said:

    Very cute. I do like that James Taylor Christmas CD. It’s in my car now.

    November 29, 2011
    Reply
  5. Anna said:

    Glad you are capturing every precious second of this little universe and sharing it with all of us! Thank you!! (And p.s. I’m really jealous you were just at the BEACH!!)

    December 1, 2011
    Reply
  6. Jo said:

    Thank you for capturing that beautiful, renewing, refreshing memory. : )

    December 2, 2011
    Reply

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