I am running my fingers through silky sand. It is fine and flies like tiny angels when I lift my hand into the wind and release my grasp. Fine grains of sand slip through the air. I look up at a giggle. Jack has his entire body covered in dark, damp grains of sand. It is in his hair, his shorts, between his toes. "I am a sand dragon, Mommy." Julia runs out to jump the waves again. They are cold. Very cold. Too cold for my toes, but I gave it a whirl five minutes ago and decided the dry hump of fine sand just outside of the rim of foam and just inside the cones the beach patrol has set out for the Navy to troop by on some special operation. Jack runs after his fairy roaring like a dragon and belly flops right into a foamy wave. Julia screams as he splashes her and runs back to base to roll up in her towel.
We will be going home soon. I am overwhelmed with the feeling of finality. This is it. Well, it could be. I feel the grains of sand shift through my toes and rub tears from my cheeks with my shoulder so I don't get sand nor salt in my eyes. One more time. Yes, I grab two little cold hands. The one in my right is creative, graceful, and introspective. The one in my left is wise beyond his years yet innocent and simple. I pull my dragon and my fairy to the waves for one more romp. I can jump higher, but they can splash bigger.
This June, I took my two little troopers to California. I had sold an art quilt, had two weeks before summer school started, and a lot of free stuff if I got on the horn to take advantage of them before they were gone. Our itinerary was packed full of adventure though I had visions of finishing a book, reading a magazine or two, and simply laying silent with my two bundles of joy. This would be my fantasy fullfilled, a California Dream Vacation with only pennies in my pocket, and a notch of completion on my Bucket List (My friend and founder of LifeRoo calls it a Life List. I think I like that better. Item 201 on my Life List...Take kids to Disneyland. Item 202...share the ocean with the kids at least once a year.)
Our first challenge was the airport. We have all flown before, but we were flying on the day after my infusion with Herceptin. Usually, the chemo-class drug riddles my body with fatigue, nausea, headaches, and a variety of fun side effects. They only last a day or so and are eased with a full day of sleep. But, since we were flying for just $15 in handling fees on our frequent flier mileage, we had to book Tuesday through Tuesday. So I downed my Tylenol and Zofran and told my body that it was just going to have to hold off on feeling crappy for one week. Incidentally, it did totally crash on me when we returned.
It turns out that travelling through security with two little ones has its advantage, or maybe I had some little sign on my back that read: help me out please. Everyone was so nice. Other mothers were helping me deal with the booster seats as they got tangled in the mess of the security conveyor belt. And, I got to walk with my children through the regular scanner and didn't have to explain that I couldn't go into the new x-ray deal because I had cancer and my body is already lit up with radiation. Though I was prepared for dramatic sighing, the lady at the counter actually smiled as I told her that I was not sitting with my children on the plane and the seats had to be rearranged for this very full flight just minutes before boarding was to begin. The flight was easy once we got seats three across.
Larry, my father-in-law, called promptly as I turned on my phone after landing. Our kind chauffeur, Larry, shuttled us through rush hour traffic from LAX to Long Beach with minimal expletives as I tried to memorize the Los Angeles driving techniques for my return to the airport in seven days. At Long Beach Marina, the kids and I got acquainted with our casa for the next few day, The Wind Rose. The kids are ecstatic we will be sharing the aft cabin bed and immediately ask what is for dinner. It is Taco Tuesday at Tequila Jack's on down the way in Shoreline Village. This is a term that seems to want to stick in our household though I write this on a Monday and served tacos this evening, I know that there will be a request for tacos tomorrow. The night is busy and the kids loose their patience and ability to stay awake. But, the $1 tacos, one pork, one shrimp, and one chicken are fabulous.
The night has crept in and the sun has set over the hundreds of boats in the marina. After learning the tricks for running the head (aka toilet that functions as a shower if you are so inclined,) we are left alone in the quiet of Gangway BB, slip 7 in Long Beach Marina. We can hear the seagulls and the waterfall turns off at 10 pm to reveal a low mechanical sound of the oil drills. The air is fresh with ocean and stars. But, I have to say that an astronomer would have much better luck viewing the Colorado skies. We lay, three in a row, looking up through the window above the bed. I pull out my i-Pad and scroll to the Skywalker ap. We view the constellations always looking for the North Star and Orion. The kids flip over on their bellies laying the i-Pad on the bed and discover Orion is somewhere under the bed. The kids giggle and ask if we can go to China tomorrow so we can see him shooting his arrows. It is nighttime there tomorrow, you know. We hold the i-Pad back over head. "That one there looks like the stingray I saw right when we got here in the water."
"It sure does. Now go to sleep as we have a big day tomorrow." Two seconds later, it is silent except for the rhythm of the ocean.
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