Prints

Yesterday afternoon, like most afternoons, I left Dan and the kids playing in the surf and walked along Playa Pelada, down to my favourite cove. Occasionally, I see unusual things in the tide pools (someone's forgotten flip flop, a purple spotted sea slug, a whole family bathing.) Occasionally, I recall the book (which one? Anne Tyler, I think?) where a woman, disillusioned with her life, takes a walk along the ocean shore and just keeps going, leaving her family behind (for the record, it never occurs to me that I'd like to do the same thing, - I'm firmly rooted and in love with my family - it just makes for a good storytelling prompt to consider the choices one makes.) Occasionally, I think deeply about my life or the life of those around me. Occasionally, I think about nothing beyond what we'll have for dinner. Always, I come back from that brief walk happy.

Yesterday, I noticed two sets of footprints, one large and one small. I followed them a ways and was surprised when the little ones just disappeared. They disappeared, of course, at the point where the Big picked up the tired Little and carried Little for the rest of the walk. I felt a small pang as I realized that my littles no longer ask me to pick them up and carry them (how had I not noticed?) They've grown so tall - Maeve nearly reaching my shoulder, Sam up past my nose (okay, so I'm not that tall, but still.) They've grown so tall and bold and curious and (mostly) kind and confident and word-strong and... heavy. I've mentioned before how very luck I am, right?

[Editor's Note: I began this post this morning, when the day had just begun. Hours later and I nearly deleted it as the kids were demonstrating their very best sulking and immaturity. Ah, but they've recovered, are humming in the hammocks and I'll keep 'em. And the post.]