Sand between my toes

Last week was a blur of calls and must dos, a flurry of signatures, a celebration of what's to come (yeah new house!) and the necessary shut down after so much activity. The eerie calm on Thursday really shook me in odd ways. I felt the looming deadlines, but they weren't there. And then Friday came with it's own little rush. 

Saturday we joined an expedition down to the beach with a malacologist (they study shells). It was Texas cold and beach windy and terrific.

I am ashamed that I forgot my camera. I did remember snacks to last four days, a good lunch, layers of clothes (and changes for everyone), disinfecting hand wipes, baggies, markers and paper. But. No camera.

So, I'm staying up too late tonight to try to capture a little of that morning in words. 

Low tide was early, so we got two sleepy girls out of bed at 5:45 to drive the hour or so down to Galveston. I have never lived so close to the big water. The ocean is a special place for me. It is calm and excitement and thrill and peace. Everything about where the water meets the land thrills me. The sand or rocks (I adore both), the way the wind moves me, the sounds of the crashing of the waves, the colors of water that churn and mix, the rhythm of water, the cadence of the birds. 

Grace is our budding shell seeker. She looked carefully at each find, thrilled to put things into her special bag. Face beaming. Her step full of excitement and purpose. Our favorite find was a lovely shell, nearly complete. I was so excited when I picked it up, I forgot to look inside. Oops. A hermit crab was at home. So, it was a nice find, but one that stayed there.  To be honest, Grace's best find of the day was not a shell, but a bone (maybe a fossil she said!). It was part of a skull, quite possibly from a wild boar. (So said the forensic anthropologist on the trip.) But, sadly, the skull wasn't only bone...and while we were given directions for good cleaning of shells with -er- extra matter in them, I don't have the stomach for that. (If you do - you soak it in half clorox, half water, then spray. Repeat if needed. Then soak in soapy water to stop the clorox. You can also put baby oil on shells to help keep them moist.). She would have loved to collect feathers too, but that's forbidden.  Even with a biting wind, she cried when it was time to go. There was so much more to see and do.

She was also thrilled to see sea gulls, sand pipers, and pelicans. We were lucky to see the brown ones who live here, and white pelicans who migrate through. ("Mom, they're big, like Quetzalcoatlus." Thankfully, not quite that big.)  

Joy had a different focus. I ran to keep up with her meandering, joyful steps. I showed her a shell. She picked up a couple bottle caps. (a budding environmentalist?)  But, her real passion was for moving sand. And chasing birds. She needed a break from the wind, a snack for her tummy, but properly fueled, she would have run small circles along the beach all day, gathering handfuls of wet and dry sand (she started with gloves, but by midmorning they were more of a liability than an asset). 

I wish I could capture the movement of my little ones, the easy smile on my husband's face (he loves the beach too), the two pink coats quickly darting and scooping up treasures, turning back towards their tall daddy in his black jacket.  I hope I can remember the simple, pure love that filled me during those calm, thrilling moments.  The sand found it's way past my shoes, right into my socks. I only hope this memory is as tenacious.