Snapshot

The smell of the sea fills my senses

as my feet march steadily along the beach towards the crashing waves.

The sounds of my daughters' squeals and my wife's shrieks

as the cool waters of the gulf splash them

are like background noise in my ears.

My sons have gone into the water before me

and are reveling in their very first swim in the ocean

delighting in the waves that pulse up and down

occasionally washing over their heads.

Teenagers now, I notice they are both manly in their fearlessness

and boyish in their play.

My mind says the water isn't cold

as it reaches first my ankles, then my calves,

when it reaches my thighs, my body begins to half accuse/half question

"Are you sure this isn't cold?"

"No!" my mind insists as I dive in,

"You'll be used to it in a minute!"

I am a little out of breath when I reach my boys

but here we are, bobbing in the water,

I wonder what they are thinking

as I watch my daughters hang on their mom

bobbing in the water laughing at something that's

"just between the girls".

I notice that my body has accepted the temperature of the water

and the buoyancy of the gulf is providing soothing relief from my enemy,

the ever present pain,

that slips stealthily from my joints, to my muscles,

to my head, and back again in no particular order.

My reverie, though full of pleasure

has touches of sadness in it

I wish this had happened sooner,

Three of my children are grownup now

and could not come with us on this trip.

Two of them will not come with us in this new chapter of our lives

They are writing their own stories now

Sprinkled, no doubt with episodes of our encounters together

But, I remind myself, that this is what children do.

"Daddy! Come on!", the little's call, "Help us boogie board!"