Go Fly a Kite

When I was little, I don't even remember learning how to swim. I've seen photos of me at about one year old on my belly at the tide line just splashing and grinning.

But I lived on the East Coast, in an estuary area, so there were no crashing waves or rip-tides to contend with - the tide went in and out gently and smoothly. Everything had that lovely salty smell, and the water was so quiet you could hear the seaweed snapping and popping on the seawall at low tide.

I grew up with an abiding love for the beach, and for salt water. My mother told me, from as early as I can remember, that I would never be able to live away from the sea and be happy. If I did go away, I would have no control over the compulsion to return. I thought she was nuts. Of course, it was one of the very few things she was actually right about.

Well, I did go away, and I moved to a very large and inland city. I raised my son there, and he never had the experiences I did with the sea. He had an abject terror of the water, and when I would take him out for a simple rowboat ride at my parents' house he would clutch the gunnels and white-knuckle it every minute even though he was trussed up in an excellent life-jacket and I was an excellent swimmer.

So when he and his wife produced a lovely grandbaby, I was not hopeful that she would share my love of the sea. They still live in that large city he was brought up in, and I'm at last back by the sea. Sure her other grandmother has a pool, and my granddaughter loves it, but that's a completely different experience.

They are here visiting, and at 3 years old, my granddaughter is old enough to really absorb the sights and sounds she's experiencing here. We took her up to Long Beach, and my daughter-in-law had a sudden urge to fly a kite. Lovely idea, so we went and bought one. We opened the car doors, and at first my granddaughter was frightened by the roaring sound of the sea.

Soon, she was distracted by the sights of the seagulls, which she pointed at swooping by and inexplicably exclaimed, "Doggies!" We got that sorted out while she pretended to listen and discovered her bucket and shovel, and how well they work with sand.

Her mother walked further down the beach to fly the kite, and by then, my granddaughter was dancing and pirhouetting in the sand being a "barrerina," holding the kite, running after it pointing and shrieking with delight when her mother or father held it, and chasing her shadow whenever she noticed it. It gave me a huge amount of pleasure to see her enjoy the sand and sea as I did as a child. I grin just thinking about it.

Since the waters here are dangerous, unlike the waters I was brought up in, we have to stay above the tide-line. But I'm delighted she's getting some sand/sea/sky experience. It gives us an important bond we would otherwise not have. I hope she remembers it as well as I will.