Tuesday, August 23, 2011

Mee-Maw Trots Off To The Beach

It's my day to leave for the beach and here I sit, on my own back porch, letting the laundry run through its cycle. I have to get the ice chest out of the garage and fill it with all my Greek-food-related treasures and the milk and the half-and-half and so forth, eggs from my hens, the yogurt which is Greek, of course.

I just read Kathleen's report of the first day at the beach and it sounds so lovely. I should be racing down there, but am not. I am taking my time. As Mr. Moon always says, "I am not rushing to enjoy myself on vacation." Or something like that.

I have checked the latest forecast for Irene and it looks as if we need to focus our concern on Syd.
If that storm does hit the Carolina coast as a Category Four, there is going to be some real danger. I know he's keeping a wary eye out. But again- who knows what these storms will do with their angry, swirling skirts? Not me and not anyone else, to tell you the truth.

But it is peaceful here now, last night's storm but a memory. Everything looking greener and happier.

I should be moving. I should be packing. I should be...

I will be. I will be. Right now it is so lovely here, and peaceful. As much as I love the beach (and oh, I do love the beach), it is hard to pull myself away from this honey-coated morning in Lloyd. I am thinking of Owen and how he looked yesterday when he got up from his nap, that long, lean body of his no longer the body of a baby but of a boy. How when something falls or unexpected happens he says, "Ha-Pen?" even if he knows what happened because he likes his new word. How Lily told me that he uses the little toy jai-alai ball catchers as something to put toads in. How much he loves to drum. How he wants "one more" kiss.

Well. He and his mama and Hank, too, will be coming down to the beach on Thursday for a visit and that will be so nice. A whole band of Mee-Maws to be amused by him, our tanned old arms, reaching out to hug him. Not all of the women who are at the beach are actual grandmothers but we are all old enough and we do love the littles. They are as bright and shiny as newly minted pennies, as amusing as puppies. And then he'll go home, sleepy and full of what someday may become vague memories. I remember things from when I was his age. None of them good, believe me. I am so happy that Owen's earliest memories will be of ocean and loving arms and sleepy stories and toads who live in the garden and a tractor to pretend to drive.
That, above all, is what makes me feel as if my life might have been worth living.

And now, to go and live it. The Mee-Maw life at the beach. The clothes are in the dryer.

I'll write if I can. You know that. But I'm going to live it, for awhile, with less emphasis on writing it.

Take care of yourselves with love and gentleness. I'll be missing you.

Ms. Moon


  1. Live it and relish it in your soul. I know that you will. Thanks for the concern. I am keeping watch on the storm.

  2. Your quiet, relaxing meditation before you drive to the beach makes sense and was lovely. You express grandmotherhood in a way that fills my heart and what a gift you are giving by writing this all down.s

  3. Syd,
    You know we love you and are thinking of you! Stay safe.

    Ms. Moon,
    You be safe, too, but have a good goddamn time.

    Love you.

  4. You are going to have a wonderful time at the beach and an even better time coming home again! We will miss you too.

  5. Enjoy the merry making and sipping of cool libations... heavenly.

    Good times.

  6. Go Forth and party!

  7. Love the blog's new look, clean and fresh and somehow retro.

    Hope you have a FABULOUS time at the beach! And Irene doesn't come anywhere near you.

  8. Live it, Mrs. Moon! I am moved by what you wrote about memories--yours and Owens.
    And your post about the storm last night raised the hair on the back of my neck. How fearsome Mother Nature can be.
    And we humans have our own ways of destruction.
    So off you go. Into the wet warm light.

  9. And, as I am known to say, when everything has been said and I have nothing new in my brain to add,

    "Don't Fall Down"

  10. What a tender post, Mz Moon. The dark and the light. We had rain here yesterday, so lovely for the garden. I'm gonna take my old self for a walk before another baby wants to come out.

    PS. Almost done with LIFE-whatever will I read/listen to after that??????


Tell me, sweeties. Tell me what you think.