We were at the beach by 6:15 yesterday morning. Three generations - my dad, the Diva, and myself. The goal was to find shells and sea glass without the confusion found in a crowded beach. We found few shells, no sea glass, and the unexpected.
My dad walked along the beach, out of the water. Well, he "tried" to keep out of the water. He had thought this possible so wore his shoes so he would not have to worry about sandy feet. His shoes got a bit wet, but hey, his feet were less sandy than mine.
I walked in the surf. I can not go to the beach, even just after sunrise, without being in the water.
The Diva threw herself into the experience. She ran through the waves, trotted across the sand, dug for natures treasures...I watched her change into a beach natural before my eyes.
That morning we shared the island with the gulls, a sea cucumber which my dad and the Diva helped back into the water, a crab who rode in on a wave and was trying to hitch a ride back to the depths before becoming a birds breakfast, various clams, and about ten other people - fishing or walking.
On that beach, if only for the 1.5 hours we were there, it was as if we were living fully and completely in the moment. Although we hardly spoke, we shared the moment completely. Dare I say, the office and the work that awaited me on my return never entered my mind.
I watched the Diva skim across the waves, dancing and laughing as she danced with the foam and spray. The beach was her stage, the sea her orchestra, and the sun provided pure magic via direct and reflected lighting.
As I told my dad later, even if I had not thought it the best possible moments of my vacation, simply watching the Diva would have made it so.
As of this moment, I am hoping to rent a house for a week on the beach next summer - I want more such moments.