Full long days in bright sun. Ocean waves of morning sparkle like jewels and I bob and float, swim and linger in the cool salt water.

By afternoon, when we return to the shore, the waves are bigger. The kids dive in, but I stay on the sand, watching them enjoy the swells.

Yesterday, three of the kids and I went for a pizza lunch across the highway. When everyone wants a different kind of pizza, you end up with two huge pies and lunch for tomorrow.

The little one was at a pirate ship, painting his face, swiping a plastic sword, yelling “Mutiny!” so the captain would turn the boat around. He loved it. It’s good to find things you love.

In the evening, visitors came, an aunt who no longer remembers, a fun cousin. The dinner table was long and full with laughter and food.

After problems eating earlier in the summer, the little one is back here at the beach in full order. He wakes me at 6:30 with “I’m hungry.” Gladly, I rise from a stiff sleep to make him a breakfast he will eat.

Life should be simple on vacation, and in many ways it is.

But the silence and the simplicity both prompt me to ponder everything that isn’t simple. I luxuriate in the waves with thoughts of what-if and what’s-the-meaning-of-it-all and the-work-I-do bobbing like the red buoy signifying the point where safety ends and the ocean takes over.

It is midweek at the beach, and I am having a good time.

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