To my inner child,
You loved with all your heart and held on with all your might. When time moved on, you felt such sorrow that you wondered if you could bear it. Nobody told you that feelings move through us when we allow them to. Receive them with wonder when they come to visit.
Would the summer days you loved so much disappear at the end of August? Does wistfulness keep them near or does it strangle them with fear?
Life at the beach filled your senses and enlivened your soul. You and your siblings played in the sand and water, and made happy memories. Your parents gifted you with seven siblings and the month of August together at the beach every summer.
Your melancholic streak makes it hard to say goodbye to whatever and whomever you love. You feel things deeply. But you cannot stop time, when it moves on, memories remain. Don’t forget them! It’s not goodbye, it’s so long for now. Gather up your memories and thank them. You cannot hold on to the experience, but you can hold on to the feeling it evoked.
I am a grandma now and I remember the feeling of those days at the beach. The sorrow of endings is temporary but the joy of memories lasts forever. This is a snapshot of the sensory experience of summer days at the beach in August.
Our last afternoon at the beach, the late August sun was mellow, a cool lake breeze blew. Bullets of sand stung our legs as we reclined on our faded beach towels.
The sand was no longer blazing hot, like mid-summer when we could hardly bear the dash to the water. The waves were breaking close to shore and when we stood at the edge, we could feel the sand being drawn out from between our toes.
Then standing waist-deep, we bobbed hand-in-hand along with the waves, jumping just before the crest. A thick strand of seaweed lassoed my calf, which I shook to free from the clutches of the green, slimy stuff. Monster’s hair.
We were no match for the power of the waves and so emerged from the water shivering, hungry and pooped. Our feet were covered with a wet boot of sand. We banned them from our towels while we lunched on gritty tuna sandwiches and warm lemonade. Then we laid back and watched the white clouds floating across the blue sky. One cloud looked like a mushroom, another like a cat stretching its front paws. The sun was playing peek-a-boo and when it was hiding, we got chilled, so we put on sweatshirts and went for a walk.
While we ambled along the raggedy shoreline, our feet sunk in the sand when we stopped to pick up shells. We went as far as the lighthouse at the tip of the bay before turning back. The sound of the crashing waves, shouting seagulls and hissing of windblown sand accompanied us. A flock of gulls bounced up and down in the water, with their legs tucked under them, resembling a string of buoys.
As we neared our spot, a wave sneaked up and nearly drenched us again. We scrambled to our towels before they got soaked, too. Then we stuffed them in our beach bags and headed toward the cottage by the road where we rested on a willow tree’s lowest branch to dump sand out of our sneakers. The sharp end of a shell pressed into my palm. I put it to my ear and closed my eyes. You know, I could still hear the crashing of the waves.
And that, my dear child, was a memory I recall almost six decades later. Loving deeply involves also letting go, for all experiences end. Holding on does not extend the experience, it pushes away the sadness of goodbye. And that sadness is laced with love. When you receive each moment with an open heart, an imprint of the deep feeling remains.
If you hold on for fear that you cannot bear the sorrow of endings, you miss the meaning of the moment as well as the moments that follow.
Cherish your memories dear one. For moments are fleeting, but memories last. Let go so you can make more memories, ones you might share, memories your children and grandchildren might share one day.
And when you grow old, the reflection of childhood memories will warm your heart and keep your spirit young. In the end, when you have sifted through your life, what remains is love and it makes us wise.
Your Truly, Grandma Love