The beachfront in Port Aransas was excellent.
Once we exited the car, and stripped the cover-ups, and smeared on gobs of greasy gopher guts – er, sunscreen, and set up the chairs, and unpacked all the sand toys, and dragged over the cooler, and set up the umbrellas….well, then we HAD to stay all day to justify all that work. No one objected.
Some folks prefer the sand. It does not wave about or push you anywhere you don’t want to go. And there are lots of mysterious things all in and around it.
I’m not sure what it is about the expanse of sand and water that makes you want to PLAY. Every person there, no matter what their age, was playing in some way. Shovels, frisbees, boogie boards, kites, dogs, intense splashing. It was like being in the largest outdoor Kindergarten you can imagine with every single person hard at work with their play.
And there’s also beer.
Some others prefer to spend EVERY MINUTE in the water. Robby threw himself around so much I was sure he’d grown gills by the end of the day. I kept thinking I’d lost him only to spot his head right at the top of a roiling wave waaaaaaayy out there. (There were so many grown people to take a turn playing out in the deeper waves he wasn’t alone.)
Somehow people look lovelier resting in a bed of sand, too. Of course, it doesn’t hurt if you’re naturally beautiful to start with, like our aunties.
And the beach is a good place to tell secrets. The wind and water won’t tell anybody!
Granna was operating the whole week with a broken wrist, but she had a water-proof cast. Isn’t that amazing?
The line where the water meets the shore is curious beyond belief. Things come in, things go out, things come up and go down again. Sometimes mysterious little spurts of water and bubbles of air come up where nothing is!
We had fun right-side-up and upside-down.
Towards the end of the day Helen had lost her fear and was painting everything and everyone with drippy sand.
Worth every gobbet of sunscreen.
Once or twice during our day I found myself regretting that we never took Lucy to the beach during her life. She would have loved the smell and feel of so many unusual things. It would, however, have been difficult to keep her sufficiently cool and her equipment free of sand.
I find myself hoping that Plato and Aristotle and Lewis are right, and that our realities are but poor echoes of true heavenly realities. That somehow Lucy can experience in heaven, with the Lord, something like but better than this reflection of His grandeur in wind and wave. To experience with heightened, perfect senses what she was limited from having here with us. These things are difficult, and maybe fruitless, to imagine but I still, like all parents, wish for her to have the fullest life possible. And I still think of her as alive, just living a different and fuller life than the one I have.
I miss her during the familiar and comfortable times and I miss her during the exciting new experiences, too.
It makes the beach ever-so-much-more-so to experience it with good company. Who also happen to be drip-castle experts.
Rob has now made plans for us to move here someday… – Katie