1/17/14: The Sun and the Sea (Say Yes)

For the month of December I'll be sporadically reposting certain highlights (and lowlights) of 2014. Today's post was originally published on January 17th. 
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Over the weekend, as the kids and I were passing the beach on our way back to my parents' house, Bo pointed out the window.

"The ocean!" she said. "STOP! The beach! The ocean! MAMA, STOPPPP!"

But it was naptime and Revi was already conked out and Archer and Fable, were, like, "NOOO!" in the backseat and I couldn't just stop. 

"Sorry, Bo. We can’t go now." 

She started to cry. 

"The ocean! MAMA THE OCEAN!"

She cried all the way home and when I put the girls down in their pack ‘n plays for nap, I told Bo I'd take her later. 

"BEACH OCEAN YES YES OCEAN HAHAHA BEACH OKAY!"

"When you wake up, we'll go to the beach, okay? Promise."

When you have four kids, you make a lot of promises that, you realize later, you can't keep. I do, anyway. I am SO SURE I'm going to keep this promise or that promise and then the time comes and life is like, "WHAT'S UP?  I AM LIFE AND YOU SHOULDN'T EVER PROMISE ANYONE ANYTHING, DUH!"

But occasionally you get to keep one. 

My mom was home from work when Bo woke up, Revi was still sleeping and Archer and Fable had zero desire to go anywhere because…board games. 

So it was just the two of us: Mama and Bo in the Odyssey, yo. 

Our first time alone... ever? 

"Have we ever been out alone, just the two of us?"

"Yes," Bo replied, but "yes" is her answer for everything. 

When we got down to the beach, she started to laugh. She laughed and she laughed and she laughed so hard that she started to cry. 

Maybe she was just tired. (Bo doesn't sleep much. Last night she was up for over an hour talking to... a ghost? in her crib while Revi slept and Hal and I wore pillows as ear plugs.)

"I feel happy!" she said. 

And she was. She was the happiest person I have ever seen in my life. Her expressions and her voice and her rock in the sand. Her pretending to be a crab and her laughter and that look she gets when she's in awe. 
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This is what life looks like when you're two years old. This is what the ocean looks like when you've only seen it a handful of times. This is how the sunset looks to the sunrise... 

And suddenly I couldn’t stop humming: 

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I recently picked up the Wes Anderson Collection, which features the NY Review of Books piece that Michael Chabon wrote. I was moved by it the first time I read it and was glad to revisit it, this time with eyes that very much needed the reminder. 


Pull over, Mom. There is a beach! 

THERE IS A BEACH AND THE SUN IS GOING DOWN AND IT'S SO BEAUTIFUL YOU CANNOT HELP BUT SEE... 


OPEN YOUR EYES! LOOK AROUND. LOOK AT ALL OF THE THINGS THAT ARE SO BEAUTIFUL AND ALIVE. 


I wrote all that stuff last year and forgot to hold onto the sentiments apparently. 
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Everything is so full of wonder that it is completely ridiculous not to attach ourselves to (at least!) the corner of the thing that is happening right this very moment. It's insane not to acknowledge the sun and the moon and the sand. For a second, anyway. For six seconds? Seven... 

And sometimes we have to make time to chase it down. To look up at the sky and find the moon, to focus on the horizon line, not at the sun, but as close as we can get without burning our eyeballs... to keep a promise even when logistically it doesn't make a lot of sense. 

Sometimes you just have to exist without dreaming because this is the dream, too. This moment is part of the dream. 
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The sunset is at its most beautiful when the sun has disappeared, when those last few minutes of daylight attach themselves so seamlessly to the night. When all at once, the darkness seems... lighter. 

This is the magic hour and it briefs us with its fade... every. single. day. 

Even when we miss it, it's happening. 

Even when it's over, it will happen again. 
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(This moment, when the day salutes the night, is part of the dream.)
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When the sun goes down it always feels very anticlimactic. Like... okay. Now... I guess... we go home?

But this time with Bo felt different. 

No, let's stay a while. Let's just stay... 

So we did…until the sun was long gone and the color had faded and we were both too cold to be barefoot in the sand. 

And as excited as Bo was to arrive, she ran back towards the car. "Come on, Mommy! Let's go!" 

It was the happiest I'd felt in a very long time.

"Thank you, Bo. I feel happy now."

"You feel happy?"

"Totally." 

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GGC

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