She and I love to travel. We will load up the car with hastily packed luggage, a couple of pillows for the ride and the other two people that reside at our place. Sometimes we do not even know where we are headed until we get moving down the road. This is how we have always done it and how I love it.
Our latest trip to Disney was planned out to the letter. Even after we arrived we still had to make plans to be at certain rides at various times. Although I understand the necessity of planning in a place like this, it was not how we like to roll. By the end of our time there, we were done.
We were scheduled to return on Valentine’s Day. I could not stand the thought of driving this far from home and not doing something unscripted so I headed for the Atlantic coast. We spent the day in St. Augustine and got a room on the beach at Vilano Beach. Somehow we always end up at the beach. I don’t know if it is the sound of the surf crashing, the smell of the sea, or just the sheer magnitude of the ocean, but there is something about it there that soothes my soul. The kids always seem to like it too.
I am simple, I guess, but just to walk the beach in the evening with my family gives me great comfort. The kids stopped on this stroll and drew their names in the sand. I’ve seen this done a thousand times before but for some reason this time I took a picture. We went on walking, passing away the day without considering what was going on. If only all us could really understand, there is always something going on.
The wife and I got up again in the morning and took one more walk before we packed up and left. The ride home was typical of trips past, lacking the enthusiasm of the trip down. There was the common dread of returning to work accompanied by the foreknowledge of rotting food that always makes itself manifest at home while we are on the road. To make the ride more lousy, we stopped in Macon at a pseudo- Mexican restaurant which I paid for later. The party was over and it made me sad.
Somewhere close to home I noticed the quietness in the car. Everyone had gone to sleep. I looked in the rear view at the kids and remembered how they didn’t used to take up as much space. Then I thought on the trip and our beach walk and how those times just seem to fly by. I recalled their names in the sand and considered their fate. I can only assume that by morning the tide had come in and erased their signatures from the beach. In an instant they were gone. That is how it is with life, one day we are at the beach and the next we are at the dump. I cannot stop time from slipping by no more than I could stop the sea from washing away their names. The challenge for me, and this applies to you as well, is to leave my mark before the tide comes in.