Gift on the Beach

Gift on the Beach

 

Today I sat on a very windy beach, so windy I couldn’t read. It was too much work just to hold the pages flat. I sat alone far away from the water’s edge. My choice was dictated by the presence of about 100 children and their adult chaperones nearer to the shore, no doubt on some kind of dubious school field trip. After my walk I sat. And sat. After a while a woman passed by hauling behind her a chunky, blue, plastic wagon on which sat a little girl no more than 2 years old. She had a beautiful round face and was wearing a blue bonnet secured at the neck by a blue ribbon. As they passed, the baby strained her neck to eye me curiously. I began to silently wave bye-bye. She looked and looked and then turned away. Suddenly, without turning to actually greet me, her arm shot up like a rocket, almost a salute. Then she turned to look at me. Mimicking her gesture I shot my arm straight up into the air. She did the same. I returned her salute. Again and again, while her mother trekked and pulled for almost 50 yards we saluted each other. Her mother remained completely oblivious to her daughter’s encounter with this delighted stranger. There I sat, shooting my arm into the air to have it answered in the same manner. I knew she was laughing though I couldn’t hear her. I was laughing too. I thought to myself, “OK. I can go home now. This is my gift for today.” Because there always is one. Sometimes it is something I see. Sometimes it is something I feel. Sometimes it is something I take away with me, a shell or a poem. Today it was this.

 

And as she disappeared behind a dune, I made a silent wish for her that was almost a prayer.