We're slightly obsessed. Maybe because we've never lived near a beach before, so it still feels like a vacation. Maybe because it's a five minute walk from our house. Or maybe because it's a beautiful beach where the little ones can spend hours playing. Whatever the reason, I've quickly grown to love being able to walk to the water. It has been two weeks now, so on our morning walks to the beach, we have started seeing the same people. Lilly and I say 'good morning' to everyone, and Jack loves showing off his wave--usually a few seconds too late for them to see, but flapping his entire arm just the same. We walk by a golf course first, and Lilly and I always stop to look for golf balls. So far, we've found two, and each time, the discovery has made Lilly's day. She always wants to know who they belong to, and after I explain to her that we can't track down their owners, she proudly carries the golf ball in her hand until we get home. We continue down to the beach, where I park the stroller and let the little ones out. Lilly runs around, skipping and dancing and making sand angels and climbing on rocks. It took her a few days to get over her fear of seaweed (a trait I'm pretty sure she inherited directly from her Godmother) and venture into the water. She now walks down and collects rocks and shells and draws in the sand with sticks. Jack, too, has become more adventurous. He went from not wanting to put his feet in the sand to crawling around, picking up (and trying to eat) sand, and he heads straight for the water every time. I'm tempted to let him go in and see what happens.
|making sand angels|
|attacking Lilly's sand castle!|
|getting awfully adventurous, climbing on the rocks|
|crawling with his shell|
|balancing on the rocks|
As we approach the beach, we see the same man every morning. He reminds me of Dad. He walks out of his simple house, right next to the beach. He has a cup of coffee in one hand and his newspaper under his arm, and heads toward a picnic bench on the beach where he leisurely enjoys his morning. He's an athlete of some sort--either a triathlete or a cyclist (you can tell by the shaved legs...a family characteristic that I am well aware of). He's faltering in the hair department. As Lilly would say, he's got "bald pots" just like Papa. He smiles and says good morning to us, and I often see him just watching Lilly and Jack play on the beach--not in a creepy way--with a smile in his eyes like he's reminiscing. He reminds me of Dad right down to his outfit...it's the same pretty much every day. Khaki shorts and a white t-shirt. I've only seen his sandals from a distance, but I'm pretty sure if I looked closer, I'd discover that they are Tevas. This morning, he was doing a few laps on the beach, and even his knee lift was the same as Dad's!
The only noticeable difference between this man and Dad is that Dad would be walking to the beach with his coffee, his kindle, and with Mum. When I see this man, he makes me smile. I can't wait for the day when I get to walk down to our beach with Mum and Dad, because they'll have to come back from Singapore some time. And when they do, there's a nice little room above the garage in Fairfield, CT that is calling their name.