Beach Musings

Here I sit on the screened front porch of the rented beach house, facing the ocean drive with cars regularly passing by, the ocean, which is partially hidden by the houses that have "ocean front views." It's warm in the North Carolina heat, and I wish this porch had a ceiling fan. But I'm content with my views of the piercing blue vastness that always signals "home" to me, always feels right.

This place makes me feel calm and free to be myself, perhaps too much myself. I am more aware of the different roles I play at home, some of which I resent simply because it seems "natural" to perform them. Sometimes it does feel like a performance, going through the motions, with the same lines every day --"Time for dinner," I say on the intercom phone to my oldest son and husband, who will be connected to their computers at that point. It's all repetition and rhetoric.

I almost wish we could be living like our ancestors did, in the agrarian society – everyone contributing to the working of the household, because often the household was on a farm, which meant the labors on the farm and in the house were necessarily entwined. So doing chores in the house or in the farmyard or in the fields provided continuous fuel for the entire family, which often meant hired hands also.

Sounds like I'm up (oh, there goes a little lizard, skitting across the driveway, perhaps looking for a bit of shade) on a soap box, with my diatribe and fancy words. But I don't really want to spend my vacation time blogging about my complaints of a life I left behind in Ohio, for now. To return to in due time and to deal with more productively.

On the other hand, isn't time away a chance to place the stones that are your life's worries and sorrows on the table before you to examine and possibly begin to see differently, or even with hope resolve? Isn't this the perfect time to lay it all out and without the interruption of normal duties and worries, see things for what they are or could be?

In my case, when I am at the ocean, the shore as we used to call it in my youth, with the sound of waves lapping the shore and gulls and pelicans gliding by overhead, I see time as precious for living in the moment, for gathering up the sustenance the sea provides me for future use, for memory in my soul. This time is precious, short, to be guarded and lived to the fullest, whatever that means at any given moment. The "living to the fullest" part is often difficult with a family to consider. They have different needs (oh yes, son number 1 wants laundry done) and often operate on a different schedule of sleeping and eating and playing. I have learned to adjust to this different rhythm, and to try and make my moments my own, and hold them close.

For instance, when planning (a task predominantly mine in our household) for this vacation, I had hoped we'd spend 2 or 3 days of the week on "side trips," mainly to pry the guys away from their computer time, which to them is unlimited and precious. I wanted to visit the "big city" north of us, to see an historical ship that's anchored there, and perhaps the aquarium next to a nearby Civil War fort. We've visited the fort on another vacation, but don't ask me to describe that day. Just let me say it was one of those hoped-for side trips that went awry when we got such a late start to our day we only had time for one stop, at the fort. The experience was enjoyed by all, but the rushed feeling and disappointment I felt tainted the day for me.

This vacation, I don't have a particular day or days planned for our outings, only outlines of ideas of where to venture. The "when" is getting problematic, since we only have this afternoon, and the following 2 days to spend, then we pack up and start home on the third day. So I better get to it today. I need to lay out a plan specifically and tell them the time, place, benefits of the experience, and basically why I want them to sacrifice their precious computer time for me, basically. Usually when they get there, they enjoy it and learn something (always a mother's hope, right?), but the grumblings start at the announcement and continue on the journey to the attraction, unless we see something exciting or drastic on the way, like an accident or girls in bikinis walking by (I have 3 boys, including my husband).

I've decided to limit my field trip days to one, probably tomorrow, and hope to get them up early to avoid the mid-day heat and give us time to return to the house for our personal pleasures at a reasonable hour. Now I need to draw out the plan by myself, and make sure I include all the details needed to make it acceptable to the guys.

Well, I had intended to focus more on my personal experiences and ocean views of life in this entry, but instead I let my worries drive my writing. It feels good though, therapeutic, to get the thoughts out, perhaps left there in cyberspace they will allow me to truly enjoy the view and let the healing waters wash away my cares, for now.