The Heart of the Ocean

"My soul is full of longing
For the secret of the sea,
And the heart of the great ocean
Sends a thrilling pulse through me."
- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow



I am my mother's daughter. I dig my toes in the sand and stubbornly refuse to leave my post in the beach chair by the ocean. If the sun never set behind us, we would have no reason to climb the splintered stairs up to the beach house.




I just got back from three full days at the beach with my parents, aunts, uncles, and cousins. Many of them stayed a full week, which I admit to being unashamedly jealous. I am thankful for these past few days of togetherness. The beach makes my heart sigh, and I feel as if I have almost exhaled a big puff of air that I didn't even know I was keeping inside.

Jonah went up a few days earlier with Sha-Sha and Pops...






...and he refused to sit in the sand. Instead, he happily played in a beach chair, transporting sand from bucket to ground and back again.



Once Patrick and I arrived, we were determined to break him in. We carried him to the sandiest spot near the waves despite his crocodile tears and cherry-red tomato face.



With great gusto and dramatic flair, we made elaborate sandcastles and dug a moat fit for a fairy-tale scene. I believe it was the moat that won him over, as he began laughing hysterically with mouth wide-open and eyes crinkled from joy.




Each day after that initial traumatic, parent-forced experience was full of sandy goldfish and wave chasing. My little Jonah has fallen in love with the heart of the ocean, just like his mom.









I used to think it was fun to slather coconut oil over any exposed skin and lay motionless under the raw sun. Now, I wear SPF 5 million and have sand, not coconut oil, in every nook and cranny of my post-child self...and I love it.

Here's to chipped fingernail polish from sandcastle sculpting, sagging bathing suit tops from clenched baby fists, and raccoon eyes from oversized mom sunglasses!






Do you have favorite memories of the beach???

Mini Us

Some of my fondest memories include an answering machine. Do you even know what those are anymore? Yes, younger generation, cell phones weren't as common and big, bulky machines were needed to capture priceless updates. My mom, dad, and younger sister would gather around this black box to record a family message at least every other Friday night.

This took at least an hour.

It went something like this:
Dad (in deep theatrical voice) "Helloooo. You have reached Tim..."
Mom (in higher-pitched, allisrightwiththeworld voice) "Charlotte"
Me (in a teenagertryingtobecool voice) "Anna!!!"
Miriam (in a littlegirldon'tforgetmeeventhoughi'mtheyoungest voice) "Miriam!"
Unison: "We can't come to the phh-ha-ha-onneee right now, BAHAHA, wheeze, wheeze, but leave a message and we'll......hahasnortwheezeagghhh..."

And that would be it.

Over, and over, and over.

But, we then decided to get all Von-Trapp-ish and sing the message. Billy Graham would be so proud, because we would sing "Just as I Am', harmony and all. Mom and Miriam would be holding down the melody, Dad would be doing something like Barry White, and I would be attempting Julie Andrews...

But then we'd laugh.

And we'd listen to it over, and over, and over.

"Do I really sound like that?"

"Do I laugh like that?"

"Am I that loud???!!!"

It is so amazing how you view yourself differently when looking through a different mirror. Despite this nice walk down the dusty halls of my memory, I do have a point.

My child, whom is definitely a congruent mix of Patrick and me, is what I would call a "Mini Us". At times, when his eyes are narrowed and mouth hangs open while watching tv, I see all Patrick (sorry, Patrick). Other moments, when he chuckles with a super huge double chin even more pronounced from a cheesy grin due to the introduction of chocolate, I see all me (scary).

He is watching and always listening, patterning his voice, gestures, and actions after what he sees from us.

I'd like for him to see a perfect marriage, but like the answering machine, we have to keep honing the message. I read a blog post today that struck home, and it prodded me to type this post.

What is your message??