Beach day

The children and I ran into my father at the dump yesterday. I am more likely to see him at the transfer station or post office than I am anywhere else. Quite unexpectedly, he asked if he could take the kids to the beach today. I was surprised but said Yes, of course. My father is very good with children. He talks to them in a straightforward manner, is completely genuine, and knows how to defuse tension with humor. He's also still incredibly athletic at 76 and will splash and dive in the ocean with them. I wish we saw him more.

Despite my father's capabilities, I figured my mother would also go on the outing. Given C's tendency to fade in the afternoon and my mother's unhealthy responses to others' discomfort, I decided to tag along in case respite care was required. It worked perfectly, and I was able to fill in the "flexibility gaps." We went to what we call the "River Beach." It's always warmer there, because the tidal river is one bend away from meeting the ocean face to face. After playing in the water for a while, I stretched out in the sand. It was extatically hot, and I loved it. I piled it over my legs and watched it spill between my thighs like a sieve. It was a perfect anecdote for my emotional hangover. I felt cocooned. I left my phone at my parents' cottage and it seemed for a while that I was disconnected and floating. What a beautiful planet we live on, I thought. How funny that we suffer. Why aren't we all just always at the beach? A seagull stole the Cheeze-It my daughter dropped in the sand, and I admired its beautiful, fiery orange-rimmed eye and gaping beak (beak? bill?). I just looked it up, and apparently it was a Ring-Billed Gull.

I didn't try to force conversation with my mother, but I smiled and exchanged a few comments about the kids' goggles and next week's rec camp. My initial panic at seeing her has lessened. I reminded myself that she can't hurt me anymore. I wanted to ask about my aunt, the one who has Downs Syndrome and lives in a group home, but I couldn't. It was too dangerous, because my mother gatekeeps my aunt just as she did my grandma. My mom doesn't go in the water. She never has, despite owning a cottage at the beach for 36 years.

Once we got home, my dad hugged me. I heard him tell the children that they did a very impressive job in the water, and it brought me right back to how I ached to hear those compliments when I was a child and how my chest swelled when I received them. It's probably been about three months since the kids have spent time with my parents. I'm grateful for today.