Last night we took our children to the beach to walk, as we often do to relax and kill some of their energy, and we asked my parents to join us. When we got to the beach there was a firetruck, rescue vehicles, and news trucks. Overhead we could see a helicopter flying along the shoreline. My heart sunk. I knew. We all knew. They were searching for someone, a 17 year old young man who reportedly went missing in the rough water. The choppy, frothy, swirling dark water.
It was windy last night. More so than we expected. Grey clouds were lightly painted over a fading blue sky. They hung overcast, beautiful and dark at the same time.
An older woman sat on the beach, rocking back and forth, crying softly "why?" Her eyes were swollen. I wanted to talk to her but, what would I say? Was she that young man's mother? Others lingered around her, some on cell phones, others staring at the water, others talking to rescue personnel.
Everything felt like it was in slow motion.
The ocean showed no mercy last night.
My heart broke and I had to put it aside and walk. For the kids we had to walk.
Past the trucks. Past the people. I battled anxiety as I answered my almost 4 years old's questions: "Why are there rescue trucks here?" "Is someone in trouble?" "How come we can't go in the water?" "What is the helicopter doing?" "What are those big bikes?" (ATVs) "What is that boat doing out there?" (The Coast Guard search boat)
How do you explain to an almost 4 year old that the ocean is awesome. And heartless. And even if you are a strong man you can still get in trouble - so fast - without warning - and disappear? I have to teach these lessons to my children. I don't want to teach these lessons to my children.
Despite the air of sorrow we did enjoy being outside, barefoot, disconnected from the interweb we weave. It's nice to do that occasionally. To look out on to something so big, so powerful, so unpredictable, yet teeming with life, a playground for discovery, a wealth of wonder. My life is small in comparison. My problems are minor. My life is rich and I have much to be thankful for.

