At the Beach

For the first time in my life, I am taking a leadership role in a vacation.   I have had plenty of vacations before - great vacations - Hawaii, Florida, Paris, New York, the Pacific Northwest.  It's a long list, reflecting generous people who have opened their homes and hearts to me and Frances over the last 30 years or so.

But I have never been in a position - financially or  emotionally  - to book a vacation, pay for it, and move into the master suite.   After my mother's death, I knew that I wanted to use some of my inheritance to spend two weeks at the beach. I have honored Mom by including  my sister and her family for a few days...  which has insured that this experience is about a lot more than water ice and board walk games.   There is, I hope, legacy in these days.

As of today, we are five days in, and the time seems to be going incredibly quickly.  I sat alone on the beach this morning and watched the sunrise - made particuclarly  meaningful because the rainy morning offered a sedate sky with a watercolor rainbow.

During my sister's visit, she asked if I had any goals for this trip - a fair question,  but also a question that felt suprisingly personal to answer.

 Yes, I have goals for this trip.   I want the cacophony of daily life to quiet so that I can hear the stirrings of my own soul.  I want to offer Frances the space  I sense she needs.  I want the ocean to remind me that I my be wonderously made but I am not in charge of much beyond what's for breakfast. I want our friends to have fun and I hope that there are wonderful memories.

It's a fairly long list.  I know.   But as I sit on the  porch and type while the rain falls around me, I do feel my soul stirring...   a bit...   just a a bit.....  And the stirrirng feels something like hope.