Last Friday, we took a day off and went to Maine. It was our one last hurrah, perhaps our final overnight getaway as a couple. I worried about the rain forecasted, but finally let it go. At least we were taking a break from the daily work-life we’re accustomed to and at least we were getting away!
And Friday morning dawned, overcast and oh so windy…but deliciously, unseasonably warm. The rain held off as we searched for coffee in the ghost town of York, Maine during the off-season, and it held off even longer as we made our way back to the beach for a stroll.
The waves were white-capped, thrown about by the wind and it was wildly glorious. I love gorgeous sunny days at the beach, but unseasonable, windy ones are just as delicious.
While there, I picked up a couple small sea shells for our jar. I collect seashells and smooth stones from our every visit to the ocean: our honeymoon, our anniversary getaway, our spontaneous walk at dusk this past summer…yes, the beach is a favorite destination of ours, even in the off-season.
And all these visits? They’re all in this memory jar of mine.
I think we’ll always be drawn back to the ocean. It’s always been a part of our lives. As children, we have our own separate, fond memories. He reminisces about visits to the Cape during the fall. I remember visits to what I’ve always known as ‘the island,’ Martha’s Vineyard and summers spent with friends there.
And now, as an adult, I wonder what our children will remember about the ocean. This little one within my womb has been to the sea once already and there are many more visits ahead for him or her.
Since that July morning when I saw the two lines on a pregnancy test, my viewpoint has slowly started to shift from life as ‘the two of us’ to life ahead as ‘the three of us.’ Mom, Dad and Baby: such a small change, but a huge one nonetheless. And along with my worries and fears, I find myself stumbling onto my hopes. There are so many things that I hope for this child. There are so many good, excellent things I long to gift to him or her. A love of God. Joy found in a loving family.
And then there are the other things in life. I want this baby to love music and so I sing, knowing that he or she can hear me even now, today. I want this child to enjoy the simplest things in life and learn to love this life that we lead. It’s full of music, family, good food and country living. And so, I desperately want it to be full of cherished memories, whether it is of Saturday morning breakfasts, Dad making up songs as he gets ready for the work day, jam-making in the kitchen or brisk autumn moments on the beach.
And so, I hope this child loves the wild waves on the shoreline just as much as his or her mom and dad.
What do you hope for your family, for your children?