We Went To The Beach

My boys.  

Me. In my new hat that I got not at the airplane hanger-sized beach crap store because just being in that place threw me into panic mode. 

"Come on, Owen," I said. "Let's get out of here."

We went into the grocery store next door where they had approximately six hats. I grabbed that one and bought it. Ten bucks. Owen says it looks swell. Lily was amused. 

"Oh well. it's the beach."

I especially like the fact that I can tie it on. I believe it's rather jaunty. 

Anyway, it's been a pretty good day. I've been a little too zombie-like but I'm almost present and accounted for. Sometimes that's about all you can hope for. 

When we got to the beach Owen said, "Mer, remember when I was shipwrecked?"

"I do," I said. I try to encourage his rich and fertile imagination. And to tell you the truth I don't actually remember when he was shipwrecked. But I do know what it feels like. 

You lay on the beach, wave-tossed and gasping. You look up at the sky and you realize you didn't die in the storm. You wonder if this particular island has friendly natives, maybe a stream of fresh, sweet water to ease your salt-parched throat. 

You hope for the best. 

You manage to get to your feet and stumble on. 

You find that river. You are amazed. 

You are stunned with gratitude.