When we arrived at the beach, you pointed at the waves, cooing, your eyes bright pools of water themselves, a reflection — a continuation — of the bay before us. Before I’d even had enough time to spread our beach blanket on the dune, you were toddling toward the water, impatiently wriggling your hand out of mine. You plunged your feet into the water, squealing with excitement as the first wave washed over your ankles. I will never — not ever, not tomorrow or in twenty years or on my deathbed — forget the vision of pure joy you presented before me: your face radiant, your eyes alight, your fearless waddling further and further into the tide, until it was waist-high, and even then, you extended your leg out as if to take a leap even further. This, despite the sharp carpet of broken seashells underfoot, the sting of saltwater, the crash and slap of waves around us. You howled when we took you from the water, writhing in my arms and flopping dramatically onto the sand; you giggled when we returned you to it. You reluctantly sat on a folding beach chair, plied with peanut butter sandwiches cut into tiny squares, looking very much an adult as you delicately removed each morsel from the tupperware and looked out across the green-gray seascape, its fickle hue not unlike the mercurial hazel of your own eyes: now brown, now green, now gold.
I do not believe in the signs of the zodiac, but it came to me, in a flash, that you must be of the sea. There was something elemental about your attraction to the waves, your joy and intrepidity in its arms. When I took a moment to look it up, I was startled and at the same time unsurprised by the fact that you are a pisces and that your symbol is the fish. How apt — you who move like magic, whose moods are as fluid as the flick of a fish tail slick with water, who I can at once describe as “chill” and passionate when asked: “What is your daughter like?” Your flailings when confined, your daze when full and happy: my aquatic heartbeat.
I still stand by all of the clothing basics picks here — these are absolute must-owns.
Ordered a pack of these for serving seasoned oyster crackers (mine is a recipe from my grandmother I’ll share later, but it’s similar to this) at my book club last week! I also considered these. The cutest way to serve little snacks. I coordinated with these napkins.
I feel like I’m constantly rifling around in my stationery drawer for a suitably attractive note card to accompany a plate of cookies or a note to the nanny or a quick explanation for the housekeeper. This should do the trick.
Rereading this gave me all the feels. We’re over halfway through 2018, and it’s been pretty damn good to me. Let’s make the last half count!