The Beach – Now and Then

Dearest Younger Self,

I still remember your first visit to the beach. At least I think it was your first visit to the beach because my memories of it are hazy.

IMG_2952You stood in the midst of the waves, a man on either side of you, each holding your little hand tightly. One of them was your father. I think the other was your father’s friend. You stood there as the waves splashed around your feet, without any expression on your face, looking like a marble statue.

Are you aware that life is so different for me? I rarely go to the beach with adults, but I always take a little boy with me. You see, he hardly resembles you. You should see him on the beach. He goes mad with joy whenever he sees the waves, claps his hands and dances with glee, rolls in the waves and the sands, gleefully tosses a bottle at the waves and waits for the waves to bring it back to him, throws wet sand at me and expects me to do the same, collects shells with great enthusiasm, watches the sea birds with wonder, and builds castles in the sand.

Why weren’t you more like this little boy? Didn’t you think that the sea was blue and bright and beautiful? Weren’t you moved by those frothy waves that embraced your little feet? Why didn’t you smile and jump and dance in glee?

When I see you there standing amidst the waves, silent and passive and unsmiling, with your little hand in your father’s big one, I want to tell you that one day, several years later, you are going to give birth to a highly active, enthusiastic, and fun-loving bundle of energy. One day, you are going to return to this same beach, holding your son’s little hand in yours.

Won’t this bit of information surprise you? Would you believe me? Things do change in ways unimaginable.

Your Older and Wiser Version (OWV)

Written in response to the daily prompt at the Daily Post – Beach


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