And Then We Went Exploring

We decided to explore. We loaded the children into the car and headed to the coast- only a short jaunt away and before we knew it- we were there. In fact, we seemed to have gone back in time. The town was small, not too touristy and still a working sea village with fisherman and boats but it was clean and welcoming- It was almost out of book.

We parked and walked, breathing in the fresh sea air and listening to the gulls and the children ran over the rocks and to the sand to let the incoming tide lap at their toes and then their ankles while they yelled and whooped and found tiny shells and stones. I watched and walked on marveling at it all- remembering pieces of my childhood. It was haunting in a truly delightful and startling way.

I stood there not sure whether any of it was real and felt a surge of gratitude that almost took me down on to my knees in the grass.

I saw the seaweed and remembered the low tide when I was little and the way the seaweed felt and smelled and how we would use it to wrap the mussels up or look through it for tiny crabs. Sometimes we would find a mussel and open it, using the meat on the end of a hook and line to catch crab- lowering the bait down into the waters as we knelt on the rocks above and waited until we felt the gentle tug of the crab and then carefully, so carefully, we would bring the line up and catch the crab and put it in a tide pool while we squealed and went back for more. Sometimes we would have 20 or more before we would gather them up and let them all go- the excitement of having caught them being far superior to anything else. And to get to the rocks where we crabbed, there were the rose bushes. Though I am sure they had roses at points in the year, I only remember the rose hips and how, one year, my younger cousin took them and mashed them with sea water and told me she had made a potion, a perfume for us to wear so we could be fairies. Who knew you could miss seaweed like that? That the very sight of it would bring back all of this and then you turn and there are the rose hips- and you are suddenly six years old and are overrun with wonder at the world around you. That must be what a soul retrieval feels like at the end- finding that little piece that was missing- the piece you didn't know was missing until you saw it and picked it back up and put it back where it belonged. 

I watched my children, their toes wet in the ocean of my youth and smiled. They pocketed shells while I pocketed a lost piece of myself.
I can only wonder what kinds of adventures are in store for us. Crabbing? Maybe. Fishing? That's already started. So many possibilities and I hold so much hope that they will be full of love and wonder.

Will they grow to love this ocean?- Down to the very seaweed that hangs like decoration from the rocks? With they stay or travel? Will they find a place they know to be home?
Will they walk past rose hips one day and remember this time and smile as a piece of themselves slides back into place?