As the first half of 2018 comes to a close, the second half starts very different than it has for the last 17 years. On the horizon is the annual family beach trip, the unofficial, and completely artificial bookend of a year of family life. It’s a time for reflection, connection, and simply being… with the beautiful setting of sun, sand, and surf. I’m not one to put ESPN Top 10 on my life, but if I had to, this week would always be my number one yearly highlight. It has nothing to do with “vacation” for I have nothing I want to vacate. It is just the ritual and how it evolves and deepens with time. How love and life work its miracle.
This year, in a few short weeks, I will look to the waves but not to judge if the little ones, barely out of diapers, are too close with their buckets, shovels, and trucks. I will look to the waves, not for body-surfing boys, or young, sturdy men fishing in the morning light. I will look to the waves with gratitude that we had this time and wonder how we can all be in this space at the same time in the future. A ritual transformed.
The waves keep coming and you know that this was coming. A time when they are grown and gone and being adults. It was and is your job. It happens fast. Like one of those rogue waves we always watched for but inevitably nailed dad as he soaked up his sons one year older than the last time dad got nailed.
Someday, a new ritual. But not this time. It happened so fast. Waves of gratitude, and commitment and being there, and the bittersweet passing of time. And once or maybe a couple of times I will reach down to the space where our beloved family pooch, now passed barely a few months, would lie and watch the waves to be sure his boys were safe.