Journal

Last night, I fell asleep listening to the rhythm of the ocean just outside my bedroom, and earlier, it was the sound of the waves greeting the shore that pulled me from my sleep just in time to see the sun slip over the horizon. The ocean is peaceful this morning, the surface undisturbed as far as the eye can see, as if the tides themselves have yet to awaken.

Lately, our days have been filled with fun in the sand and the sun. Each year, after the last day of school has come and gone, The Greatest Kid On The Planet and I head for the shore. This year has been one of our greatest excursions yet, and even though I say that every year, I’m especially grateful for our current adventure because it almost didn’t happen.

We all, at times, experience unexpected trials that, whether for a mere moment or a whole season, throw us off track. Mine arrived in the form of a painful injury that has made it near impossible to concentrate and has kept me from my computer and keyboard. And while it came close to derailing our trip, there is little that can keep me from the ocean with The Greatest Kid. As it turns out, the sunshine and salty breeze were just what I needed to reset my compass and realign my focus.

I’ve often heard people say being by the ocean makes them feel small and insignificant in comparison. For me, it’s just the opposite. Sitting by the sea, watching the waves in perpetual, unrelenting motion, renews my spirit. And it reminds me of the immeasurable power of the Universe and all it’s capable of, and that this same infinite power of possibility has also been afforded to me.

It’s the end of March, and the days are just starting to feel warmer, although there is a definite chill in the night air. Ten days ago, the first official day of spring was a glorious one that ended with a magnificent full moon, and here in Georgia, delicate cherry blossoms adorn the trees everywhere you look. I love the way they float through the air, leaving gentle blankets of pink and white on the ground. It always amazes me that such a fragile, little flower is the first to bloom in early spring when the weather is still so unpredictable and can turn on us at any time.

Tonight, I’m sitting on my back porch under an array of stars and looking forward to the days ahead. Tomorrow morning, The Greatest Kid On The Planet and I will hit the road and head farther south to one of our favorite places where we’ll spend a week in the sand and the sun and the surf doing all the things we love with our favorite people. It’s going to be the best Spring Break ever. But we say that every year.

A short time ago, I was talking with a friend about new beginnings and how fast time goes by, the things we plan at the beginning of each new year, and the New Year’s resolutions that have already come and gone. It seems we begin each year by setting new expectations and standards to live by, and it made me wonder for a moment why we do that to ourselves.

This same friend is contemplating a new venture that will take her in a different direction, and I’m excited for the amazing things I see in her future. But I also understand the twinge of fear she expressed that comes with stepping out into something new and leaving behind what’s familiar. We’ve all been there and felt it; when the excitement we feel at all that’s to come is overshadowed by our hesitation and the questions we ask ourselves.

It’s one of those amazing days that we live for here in the South. It’s sunny and seventy degrees, barely a cloud in the sky, not what most people expect for the beginning of January. We spent the last two mornings packing up the holiday season and putting it into boxes, and now I’m content to sit on my back porch and listen to The Greatest Kid On The Planet run around the backyard with his friends and a football.

It’s hard to imagine how the holidays could have been any better. The Greatest Kid has been home from school for eighteen straight days, and we’ve made the most of each one, enjoying all of our favorite things. The moon was stunning and full just days before Christmas Eve, and on Christmas day, a magnificent waning gibbous followed us across town and then, later, joined us for our annual tour of holiday lights. It was the perfect Christmas filled with fun and family and a feast. The croquembouche, which we made with eggnog pastry cream and white chocolate, was a work of art thanks to my niece who loves creating in the kitchen as much as I do. And then, on New Year’s Eve, we danced the night away and welcomed 2019 with champagne and our favorite people.

It was the best holiday ever, but we say that every year.

There was a slight feeling of melancholy this past weekend as we put away the most wonderful time of the year for the time being. But that faint heaviness was outweighed by the excitement in the air for all that is to come. For as we say in our home, no matter where we are or what we’re doing, there is always something to look forward to.